


Bitter Winds and Fragile Skin

by badjujuboo (miztrezboo)



Series: Get Gotten [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Barebacking, Coming Out, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Future Fic, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 14:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miztrezboo/pseuds/badjujuboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>when Louis wakes up and Harry is gone, there's only so much waiting he can do before running from heartache seems like the best idea possible. . . But what happens when it just runs right after him? </p><p>Or: the sequel to <b>mrsyt31</b> birthday fic <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/882890">It Sounds Like</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Bitter Winds and Fragile Skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrsyt31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsyt31/gifts).



> NC17 | angst and pining and future!fic mostly set in Australia with surfing and drinking and idiot boys finally taking chances on happiness | 30k | Louis/Harry (past Louis/Eleanor, Nick/Harry)
> 
> Because Erin and a few others weren't satisfied with how i left things between these two last time. It's no ones fault but my own how long this became. For Erin as everything always is (and that chunk of text you wrote that fit SO WELL) and thanks to Lady Lou and Natasha for looking most of this over - more than half is unbeta'd, soz! And love to S, B and M for cheerleading on a fic they knew nothing about xxx

_"Louis," Harry starts, voice thick and sort of sleepy in that way it always was after sex like this. Sex that hurt and was more than just fucking to rid themselves of excess energy, or to show how much they meant to each other, or for fun._

_"Lou, I think-"_

_"Harry, I think you literally weigh a ton," Louis says as a way of distraction, Harry sounds like he's going to start spouting things that they haven't talked about in years and Louis can't have that. He can't have Harry talking about their past and asking the questions that Louis still doesn't really have answers to. Not now. Not when he's feeling so fragile that any picking on Harry's part might have him spilling everything out in a tidal wave of emotion and hurt._

_"You didn't say my name right," Harry pauses and it's back to that weird line of questioning when he first came into Louis' flat. Louis sort of knows what he wants but it feels too big - even bigger than what they've just done, "I'm not your Harry," he says and then there's this sigh and a snuffle and Harry's breath evens out. It's ridiculous how easy it is for Harry to fall asleep. But he was always like this after sex, always so boneless and near fragile in the way he carried every emotion so close to his heart and then let it all go when he came. Everything he usually kept hidden completely on show._

_"Happy birthday, Harold," Louis whispers, fingers combing through Harry's curls, staring at the ceiling and not thinking about anything else, at all. There's a tomorrow for all of that, if Harry's still there to talk it over with. If Harry stays at all._  
.  
.  
.  
.

Harry's gone in the morning. 

When Louis wakes and for two seconds forgets where he is, what he's done and who he went to bed with - everything feels fine. Then he breathes and there's this ache in his thighs and a burst of pain in his neck and he shifts his hand to press against it. _Oh._

His eyes blink open fast and wide and he's turning to his side with half a smile that only fades when he takes in the rumpled sheets that lie vacant on the bed. His hand spreads out over them anyway, breath caught in his throat as he feels how cool the cotton is under his fingertips. He notes the light coming through the blinds is white, creeping through the spaces where whoever closed them last didn't quite shut them enough. It has this dark hurt burst in his chest, right about where his heart is. His legs fold up, pulling in tight to his body as he throws his arm over his face and curses that he let himself _feel_ anything last night at all.

. . .

He and Eleanor end things quietly. She comes back later that evening and they sit and they talk and Louis doesn't say anything but the marks on his neck are words enough. They separate their lives over a few cups of tea, Eleanor promising to have someone come over to get her things within the week. In the end when he's walked her to the door, they hug and it's long and filled with words they can't say, words they maybe should but don't know how to.

She's just so beautiful, always has been, and he's hit with this rush of affection for her as she shifts back, biting at her lip, fingers quick to slide stray strands of her fringe behind her ear. She's in a heavy woolen knit that's stretched out at the neckline and he remembers tugging it right off one shoulder once, just so he could run his mouth over her skin. He thinks it could have been his originally - or maybe one of the boys - because it's much too big for her and he knows it's too big for him too. She's got the ugg boots on that they bought together at the start of winter, these ridiculous knee high things that lace all the way up and a flash of her wandering around the kitchen in those and just some plain cotton knickers is there and gone in a blink of his eye. They've had so many good times but. . . he knows he's always kept part of himself back. He knows there's a reason why her smile never quite reaches her eyes, even when they're alone together. She sighs and tugs on the heart pendant she's wearing today and he looks up, stunned for a moment by the colour of her eyes, the pure pink of her lips.

She's always managed to take his breath away in so many moments in the years they've been together. Whether it's early in the morning when she's curled up on the little armchair in the living room, cup of tea in one hand and iPad in the other, or late at night when they're at some fashion show, hair and makeup flawless. She looks tired, eyes glassy as she blinks up at him and he _knows_ that for how brave and calm she's been about it all, this is still an ending. It still hurts, just as much as it hurts him. Maybe even more. 

"That's from him, isn't it?" She asks, eyes flicking toward the mark on his neck. Louis feels his face flush with heat as he nods in reply.

"I'm sorry-" he starts but she stops him quick with a shake of her head. 

"Don't be. I knew - I thought," Eleanor sighs and smiles, a little shaky at the corners, "I saw him watching you. You need to figure out what really makes you happy, Louis. Not just how to make others feel that way."

He opens his mouth to say something - anything - about how he _is_ happy or _was_ happy but nothing comes out. She leans in and presses one last kiss to his cheek and then she's gone, small suitcase rolling behind her.

Louis shuts the door and stands there looking at it for a long time after.

. . .

 

He doesn't hear from Harry.

Not even when his PR team - which is just Alice who handles the where's and when's of his schedule - issue a small press release on the end of Lou and El's relationship. Well, Alice does a little more than that. She's been more than that since before the band ended and he was a little bit busier with his charity work, and the Rovers, and all the other pies he had fingers in. Alice is the first person he called after Eleanor left and her lack of surprise, well, surprised him. He did manage, however, to make her quiet on the end of a line for a few seconds when he mentioned that there might be some sort of kerfufle ahead.

“There are other reasons it ended.”

"What drugs are you on, who did you fuck or - worst case scenario - I know someone if there's a dead prostitute in your bathtub, Mr. Tomlinson," she says with the tone of utmost sincerity.

"A what in my bathtub?" Louis squeaks, his eyes bulging as he leans forward in his chair. "I know I'm not your only client Alice, but _jesus fuck_ what type of firm do you work for?"

She laughs and Louis breathes a little easier than five seconds before, "Wouldn't you like to know," she says and there's a touch too much honesty, he thinks, in the quick way she's laughing him off. "Really, which of the other two is it then?"

Louis swallows and sits back on the chair El had placed near the window with the view of the park across the road. He thinks about all the times she's sat there - long legs bare apart from tiny shorts or encased in those tights she likes to wear that make them look endless - curled over the arm. It shoots this horrible feeling of guilt straight to his gut and he's regretting the multiple cups of tea he's drunk today in an effort to keep himself calm. To shut off how he felt waking up truly alone after years of waking up with someone. But most of all, waking up with the scent of _him_ still there. 

Because of _course_ he couldn't go back to the bed he shared with El. 

No one ever said Louis wasn't a glutton for punishment.

"It was mutual, really. We've not been happy and she deserves someone that will care for her more, be there for her more. Someone whose whole heart is in it," he stops, eyes caught by the couple walking down the street in front of him. The two men are arm in arm, all wrapped up in coats and scarves against the weather. One has his hand on the pram in front of them, a pink blanket bright against the darker colours of winter, tucked up tight around it's occupant. Louis' heart aches a little more because it was something he thought he wanted, could have. 

The couple disappear as a car drives past and like that the moment is gone and Louis remembers that he's on the phone and Alice is waiting. "She deserves someone who can give her more, Alice. And that's not me,"

"This isn't telling me anything, really, Louis. There's always questions after a breakup and it'll be best if I know as much as possible to sway things if I need to. Will I need to?" she asks softly and Louis swallows hard against the lump in his throat. If he says it out loud properly, actually says the words and doesn't allude to it like he did with Eleanor, it'll be real. It'll be more real than the bruises on his upper arms or the thumbprints in purple that litter his hips from Harry. It'll be more real than the teeth marks left on his neck or the spunk covered tissues that are tucked into the bedside drawer. 

"Louis?" Alice tuts and Louis realises he's been quiet too long. 

"There was someone else, just once. Only going to be once, I think. He's from my past and I don't think it'll come up but it might and. . ."

"How about we worry about names if it does become a thing, Louis?"

Louis breathes out this sigh of relief that he didn't even know he was holding. "Yeah, that'd be. . . that'd be grand actually." 

"Alright then, look I don't think it'll be too much of a thing. But, I'll issue a small press release this afternoon if you want. Nothing too big, but nothing too quiet so it doesn't look like we're hiding anything. And Miss Calder has already moved out you said?"

"Yeah, she's gone," he says, turning back toward the room, eyes lingering on the empty spaces of items missing that were more Eleanor's than his. The photos of her family. Silly things that never felt important at the time, but now they're gone Louis can feel their disappearance almost as physically as Eleanor's. 

"Yeah, she's lining up someone over the next few days to come and get her things. We've got an appointment with our accountant on Tuesday, so we should be able to sort anything else out then." 

It was weird how everything sort of fell into place, they were already seeing Mark to look at sorting out some money for Louis boosting a few things at Three Horseshoes and the possibility of investing a little more at the Rovers. His signing to the club years ago turned into this great opportunity once things died down with being a popstar. He's never actually _played_ for the team proper - the odd charity match - but he's moved up along the ranks behind the scenes. With the money he's put in, he has a little pull when it comes to the direction the teams headed in. There was word that someone amongst the board was selling up and Louis wanted to see if he could take advantage of that. 

"Okay. That's good. Keep it clean and tidy. Well, as clean as you can."

Louis' eyes focus in on the one picture he has of all the band still up on the bookshelf. He'd near well forgotten it was there, hidden behind this ceramic owl Liam and whatever girl he was with at the time had given them as a housewarming gift. El had shifted it out the road to get at the blue vase she'd picked up when they'd holiday'd in Sicily one year. The frame is huge but the people in it are tiny. You can barely make out who's who from their outlines highlighted in white with blue tinged hues of thousand upon thousand of phones held in reverence at who they were, who they had been. What five idiot boys meant to millions of others. A tiny piece of his history and yet he can still remember the way it felt to stand there, holding onto each other, holding each other up. Holding each other together. He can feel the smile breaking his face, the happiness from what they'd achieved and the sheer terror of the unknown that was to come. He still remembers the rush of Harry's fingertips grazing over his skin, knuckles white as they clutched at Zayn's shirt, anything to keep him grounded and that one touch of Harry's sending him sky high once more.

They'd kissed that night. Kissed like they had in the beginning. Without care, without hesitation, without a worry in the world. Just these two boys in a dark corner wanting nothing more than the taste of each others skin, the feel of each others lips. A kiss and a smile and then it was over.

Maybe that's the way it should have stayed.

"It will all be fine Mr. Tomlinson."

"Right," Louis says, eyes drifting back out the window to the empty street below, "fine."

. . . 

Things are anything but _fine_.

It's been a week and not a single word from Harry. Not a text, not a phone call - not even an email. It's not as if Louis' been hiding either. The press release went out and apart from good old Sugarscape and the twats at The Mirror and The Sun putting in a tiny page five piece well - it's been relatively easy to dissolve whatever he and Eleanor had after a decade of ups and downs. Removalists came and a few of her mates to box up her things and Louis sort of left the flat so they could get the job done and it wouldn't be awkward. He trusts Eleanor to do the right thing. They've talked out what would stay, and what would go and Louis doesn't really care. In the end they're just objects, and he's downsized before when he moved out of the house he'd originally bought for them both. One of his first investments in the future he planned to share with her because it was the _right_ thing to do. An awfully large empty space when she was at Uni and he was on a rare occasion at home. 

Empty spaces where doubts bred until he had to get out and go out just to remind himself that he'd made the right choice.

He's not hiding. He's still in the same place doing the same things and what was it that Harry said? He only needed to know where to look to find Louis? Well. . . Louis hasn't gone anywhere. Just Harry has.

Harry, who'd been sort of the topic of conversation when Louis had tuned into Radio 1's morning show - the one _after_ Grimmy but not late enough to hear the banter that exists when they crossed shifts.

"You excited about going out to Ibiza next week, Grimmy?"

"Yeah, yeah, Katie. Shame you can't come, duck, but someone has to hold down the fort though, don't they?"

She laughs and Louis' fingers hover over the channel button on his steering wheel, normally he'd change the station if Nick was still on, but for some reason he doesn't do anything. It's not that he's curious - Nick's _always_ gushed on about Harry before they were even anything at all - he's just, just listening is all. An interested party and nothing more.

"Yeah, yeah. You're just pleased you'll have all the lads to yourself!"

There's more chuckles but it sounds different - Nick's not _that_ great an actor, Louis knows this. "Up to me eyes in it love, just how I like it! 'Bout time I separated the men from the boys, maybe focus on the men this time around."

She laughs again and Louis also knows a dig when he hears one and this seems to be at Harry. 

"Be a bit different for you won't it? A long time since you were on the pull, Nick. Things might have changed."

Louis is tempted to pull the car over because it sounds like . . . it sounds like something he should listen to but he's on the bloody motorway headed up to Doncaster to sign a few papers. He's already running a little behind and stopping would be ridiculous. As it is, he slows it down and hopes it's enough. 

"Doubtful, darling. Doubtful."

They lead into discussion on Rizzle Kicks latest but Louis isn't listening. Can't anymore. It sounds. It sounds just like Nick is single and if Nick is single that means Harry is and when did that happen? It couldn't have been that long ago - Nick is an arse but he's not _that_ much of an arse to shit all over his relationship ending within a few days. It bubbles something up in Louis' throat and it's making it hard to breathe, but he can't really think about it yet.

Harry still hasn't called after all.

Maybe it wasn't a mutual thing. Maybe it was more a Nick thing because of what Harry did with Louis. Maybe Harry's mumbled allusions to Nick giving him permission or whatever it was Louis never actually let Harry say, weren't actually that. Maybe it was a mistake on Harry's part and maybe he regretted it as much as Louis wondered if they could have more.

Too many maybes and the only answer Louis has is Harry's silence.

Maybe, he does have an answer after all.

. . .

It's a dumb move.

A seriously dumb move.

He hates himself as he's doing it. Despises himself really.

But it's late and he's just so horribly, terribly _alone_ and he just wants to feel _something_ apart from this endless _waiting_. . . this feeling like he can never quiet catch his breath or relax completely because of _what if's_ and _why's_ and a host of _what now's_ that he's trying to avoid.

It's late and when he was buying wine for dinner he changed his mind at the counter, swapped it for a larger, heavier bottle and cancelled on Niall.

He's been sat looking at the thing for hours now and he really should have just got the bottle of pinot and gone to Niall's and talked about _everything_ \- because Niall would have wanted to - he should have just _gone_.

Yet. . . .

Tequila has _never_ been his friend and he shouldn't have bought a bottle, and he shouldn't have forgone the lemon or even a fucking mixer. He shouldn't have kept his phone on the table when he sat down, slid off the sofa to the strains of Coldplay's first album doing shot after terrible, throat burning shot, and he definitely shouldn't have picked up the phone and dialled.

He shouldn't have hung up the moment _he_ answered.

He shouldn't have sat there - long after the screen went black - hoping for a return call.

 

. . .

"What would you say if I told you I'd actually take you up on being a guest mentor this season??" 

Liam's face lights up, smile wide and brows lifted up in surprise, "I'd say, I'd say fucking yes, mate! I mean, fucking hell, really?"

Louis grins just as wide back, he's missed Liam so much in the last few years. Liam'd buggered off over to Australia to be a judge on the newest rehashing of X Factor for one season during a planned break with the band and ended up staying for three. It was just another reason why they'd chosen to take an extended "hiatus," really. None of them had wanted to actually say the words to "end" the band - but they all had outside interests and, christ, nearly thirteen years of being together, working as one unit? They deserved a break. So one huge week of Wembley Arena shows and that was it. Hiatus - with the word permanent not attached but meant all the same.

Liam'd tried to get Louis on the show a few times. Niall was on a couple of episodes, and word was Harry was due to do a guest spot - but Louis had always sort of fobbed Liam off. Louis'd had his taste of that side of things. He'd even co-hosted Xtra factor with Caz and then her replacement, some young thing with legs up to her ears that Louis had had the tiniest fling with in between being with Eleanor and pretending that he was ready to really _look_ at his life. Plus, when he'd vetted the idea of three months in Australia to Eleanor the look on her face was enough to not really raise the subject.

"Yeah, man. I think it's 'bout time I had a good change. Really mix up my life now there's nothing. . . well, you know. Plus, it's summer down there right? You still living in Sydney?" 

Liam's still smiling, near vibrating in his seat from what Louis can see in the little square of the Skype video. "Close, Bronte actually. Not that far from the beach and the surf has been absolutely brilliant these last few weeks. Should still be a decent swell when you come down. When do you think you can? I mean, shooting doesn't start until June and your part wouldn't be until July and that's a few months off but fuck it, come down anyway!"

Louis laughs and shakes his head, "If you're sure it's not a problem, I know you've got Candy or Casey or-"

Liam scrunches up his nose, running a hand back and forth over his short hair, "Kelly actually, and no, we're … that fizzled out."

"Oh," Louis says, sitting back a little, "Sorry mate, um, when did that happen?"

Liam lets out this long whoosh of breath, the bright blue sky visible through the wide doors that are open wide behind him, white curtains fluttering in the breeze. Louis can almost smell the ocean from the look alone. 

"Three months ago?" Liam squints one eye in thought, "Maybe four. I told you about it, I'm sure,"

"I don't remember it mate, you definitely didn't say anything on my birthday, but I was pissed that night so, maybe you did. Shit, I'm sorry."

Liam shrugs, sipping on what looks, and probably is, iced water before putting the glass down out of camera's view. "Don't be. It wasn't that serious anyway. She was nice but, she wasn't. I don't know. She wasn't right I suppose."

Louis nods and they fall quiet for a moment, Louis concentrating on breathing and not how the words _not right_ seem to ring in his head alongside the apologies he whispered in the dark that he thought were enough to right a decade long wrong. 

"You should definitely come down though, I'll get the network to pay - even butter up Uncle Simon if I have to!"

Louis proper laughs then, this thing that makes him lose sight of Liam's earnest looking face because his eyes are squinted up that much. "Nah, mate. It's fine. I'm sure I can find a bit of coin to pay my own way. Might take you up on your spare room though, if -"

"Don't you think about getting a hotel, you'll stay with me like I've been asking you to for _years_ now." Liam wags his finger in front of the screen and then there's the sound of laughter as brown fur blocks the screen and then everything goes a little haywire until all Louis can see is fan blades turning fast in the roof above. 

Blonde curls come into view next, and dark brown eyes with a smile that's mostly her father's and a button nose that's all her mum's. 

"Uncle Louis! Daddy said you're coming to visit? He said I have to tidy up all my toys and then you'll stay in my toy room which is okay, but you'd let me keep some in there, won't you? Like my Barbies and my doll house and my-"

Louis nods and tries to look serious because he _knows_ Liam's daughter and he knows Liam and just how _many_ toys Liam's girl will have in there. "Rosie, I'm more than willing to share my room with your dolly's, darling,"

Her brow furrows and for a moment she looks so much like her Dad did when he was younger that Louis has to bite his lip not to laugh. "Uncle Lou, they're not _dolly's_ they are Barbies, dolly's are what little girls play with," she pouts.

Louis holds a hand to his heart, "I am ever so sorry to have offended you Rosie Posie, I forgot that you're not a little girl now. You're all of what, eleven now? Or is it thirty-two?"

She laughs and it makes her eyes scrunch up and if he's noticing all these Liam-isms it's definitely been too long since Louis' been in his mates presence. Even longer than since he first met Rosie, about three months after Liam had landed in Sydney and met her himself. It had been a bit of a news item, ex-boyband member discovers he has four year old daughter from one night fling while on tour. That alone should have been a gossip rag blip but add on the fact that Liam was also engaged when said daughter was conceived and was now _just_ going through a messy divorce well - least to say, the blip turned into a full page spread. 

It was all fine in the end. Rosie's mum didn't want anything but for Liam to know his daughter and Liam ended up paying a _lot_ more than he should have to get out of his marriage but - in the end he counted himself as more of a winner because he got Rosie out of it. It was another reason why he hadn't come back to the UK. Living in Australia gave him Rosie every other weekend and one week out of every school holiday, a month in the summer. Rosie's mum was very accepting of Liam's duties to the network and he helped out when she needed it for studying and exams and things - Amanda had gone back to Uni when Liam and Rosie had bonded enough. She's starting her second year of law school this year and _still_ won't take any money from Liam to help with her tuition and books. 

Louis doesn't know much about Amanda, but he is impressed with how she wants to do things on her own.

"I am _seven_ , Uncle Louis. I won't be twelve for a long time," she says, and Louis can see her hands on her hips, tucked under the ruffles of her bright yellow and pink dress dotted dress, colours so bright only a child could get away with wearing them. 

"I know Posie, and I'll be an old man then."

She grins wide, a gap in the middle of her white teeth where two have yet to grow back, "You’re old now," she says and the squeals as she disappears from the screen, Liam having picked her up and tossed her into the air no doubt. The screen eventually sets back to where it was before Rosie and the dog - Merida or Merry for short - knocked it over. Rosie had gone through a "Brave" phase just around the same time Liam bought her the puppy. Liam might have said it was for Rosie, but Louis knew when his mate was lonely and it only got worse when he'd had to send Rosie back to her mum's. That dog was more for him than his little girl.

Liam is laughing when he sits back down and they work out a few details on when is a good time for Liam - any - and when Louis can get away - now. Louis is about to finish up the call, it's late where he is and his eyes are starting to droop. It's nearing three in the morning and if he wants to get sorted for a short stay "down under" as it were, he really needs to be getting some sort of sleep.

"So you really going to come then?" Liam asks, this hopeful look on his face that has a touch of concern - even after all this time Liam can still read him like a book. Knows that this visit is more than just about a break away from everything that Louis has told him. The more about Eleanor, the less about. . . well. The less even Louis thinks about the other he'll be the better for it. 

"Yeah, mate. Think it's time. Even if it's just to laugh at your fat arse trying to fit into a wetsuit,"

"Oh you'll eat those words when you're down here, you will _eat_ those words,"

Louis just shakes his head as he clicks out of the window. He feels lighter than he has done in the near month it's been since Harry's birthday. Since the night his whole world both righted and wronged itself in ways that Louis is still trying to figure out. 

Running away to Australia seems the better alternative somehow.

. . .

It's fucking _hot_ when his plane touches down. For some reason, they have to descend by the stairs when they get there and the heat after being locked inside recycled, temperate air, hits Louis in the face like a furnace. When the captain said something about it being an unseasonably warm day - a mild twenty five degrees - he didn't understand exactly _what_ that entailed. It was still cold enough to be wearing layers back home and even after years of travel through both hemispheres, he's still got them on now. He manages to get through the airport with little fuss, it's seven in the morning and the only people around are business folk or girls that are too tired to recognise him. A few do which is lovely, he takes some photos and smiles in a way that's not forced but not entirely real either - an art he's perfected over time. 

Finally, the last girl has moved on and then there's Liam. Liam with a stupid bloody sign that looks like Rosie's made it - all sparkles and glitter with the word "Kevin" in giant letters. Some jokes just never die. He looks good, still lean and tall, standing out even with his dressed down plain grey tee and faded denim jeans like he's trying to fit into the morning crowd. His trainers are too bright though, all white and shiny and look like they've barely been worn before. His hair looks good - that short cut he's had for a few years now where he lets the top grow out a bit so his curls show. Even at a distance, Louis can make out a few extra wrinkles around Liam's eyes as Liam finishes doing something on his phone. When he does look up, Liam's smile is wide as he recognises Louis in his regular travel clothes - beanie fixed to his head, comfortable joggers and an oversize jumper that he's pretty sure was actually Liam's at one stage. The clothes swapping never really ended amongst them all, even when Liam shifted countries, maybe more so because of that. 

"Tommo," Liam says soft against Louis' neck as he pulls him in close for a hug. Louis breathes in deep. There's that familiar cologne Liam's worn since they were kids and that clean _Liam_ scent that makes Louis feel instantly at home. They stand there for a moment, just holding on and Louis feels all the things Liam wants to say and ask and Louis answers with how hard he just _holds on_.

"Missed you," Liam whispers, a tone that says a lot more than what two words imply. Louis can only nod because he's ridiculously choked up and he knows if he tries to answer it'll come out as a sob. He didn't realise how _much_ the sentiment was returned. Especially for all the reasons he's here and in Liam's arms.

Liam pats him on the back a few times and then pulls back with a grin - a little watery at that - as he grabs at the larger of Louis' bags. 

"Come on then, mate. Let's get you home."

. . . 

He sleeps for the first week. 

It's not that he wasn't sleeping when he was home. It's just he wasn't sleeping _well_. Liam's great about it. Never says anything, just has food in the kitchen and provides a body for Louis to snuggle against on the sofa when he's home. Liam's busy helping out with songwriting for one of the groups from last years X Factor during the week. So, it's a little surprising when Louis wakes on what he thinks is Saturday, to find Liam loading the outdoor fridge with a variety of booze.

"Mate, I know I like a drink and all, but isn't this a bit much?"

Liam chuckles in answer, pulling apart the casing for a six pack of Stella that Louis has no idea _where_ Liam's going to find space for, the shelves already filled to overflowing. "I don't know about that. Remember that tour bus we had in Europe that time with the beer fridge under the seats? I recall a little wager you and Niall had on who could drink drawer dry before the other?"

Louis groans, rubbing at his stomach underneath the thin black shirt he's wearing, "I also remember how sick I was. Thanks for that."

Liam just grins, raising his brows and starts stomping down on the cardboard boxes littered at his feet.

Louis steps onto the back deck, sitting up on the concrete edge that contains one of those meditative looking fountains where Liam has bright orange fish swimming around in the water below. He yawns, tipping his face up to the sun and nearly falls into the shallow pond when Merry's large paws land on his chest, her tongue wet and warm on his throat. He pushes her off with a grimace as Liam calls her over, admonishing her behaviour.

Louis wipes off the slobber and rubs it off on the cloth of his robe. He can only smile, watching as Liam bends down and talks quietly in that tone that people use on animals and babies while holding Merry's face in his hands. 

"Go on now," he says, standing up with his hands on his hips, "Go say hello to Uncle Louis proper,"

Louis braces himself this time, waiting for her to jump. Instead, Merry scampers over, slowing at the last minute to place her head on his lap, tongue lolling out the side as she pants. Louis sighs in relief, curling his fingers into her soft brown fur as Liam says, "that's much better."

He loses himself for a bit, watching as Liam goes back to putting all the boxes he's squashed down into one large one, rubbing his thumb over the velvety softness of Merry's long ears. It's only after a few minutes that he realises he never actually asked _why_ there were so many.

"I thought you might like to meet some people? You've been here for a while now and I'm busier than I thought I would be so I haven't really had a chance to do anything with you and-"

Louis looks up at Liam through his fringe, annoyingly longer than it should be so he's constantly brushing it out of his eyes. Something he'll have to see to soon. Eventually. "So you thought you'd get some of your new friends around to palm me off to, did you?"

Liam's eyes widen and it's credit to their long years of friendship that he quickly scoffs, "Like any of them would actually _take_ you,"

"I'll have you know I'm a fabulous friend, Payner. People would _pay_ to have my friendship,"

Liam snorts, pushing the now full box into the house, reaching around the corner to grab a beer that's already half empty. "More like you pay them, which reminds me, your last cheque bounced," 

"Har, har," he says and Liam smirks, "And since when did you start having beer for breakfast or is it some sort of Aussie thing you've picked up?" 

Liam looks at his watch, "Lou, it's one o'clock. In the afternoon,"

"Better get us one then."

Liam rolls his eyes and walks into the kitchen, coming back out with another bottle. He bumps his shoulder into Louis' when he sits down, handing him the beer.

"Beer for breakfast, Louis? What would your mother say," 

"She'd say that her only son is on holiday and he's thirty-four years old so he can make decisions for himself," Louis answers, bumping Liam back with a little bit more force. Liam laughs and Louis finds himself joining in, Merry's doggy face even looking a bit like a smile.

They sit and drink and say nothing, Liam's house is pretty silent apart from the odd gull flying past and cars in the street way down below. Liam lives in one of the more private parts of the area. It's a few houses down from where Heath Ledger lived, which is sort of weird, and reminds Louis of just who he and Liam are. Or were. Maybe Liam still is. Louis hasn't felt that way in a while.

"So," Liam says when Louis' coming back out with another beer for them both and Louis knows that tone. Knows the look in Liam's eyes with the way he smiles at the end and Louis can't. He just can't talk about what he _knows_ Liam will want to talk about. Not right now.

"So you haven't told me anything about how Rosie's doing at school this year, and where is she? I thought this was your weekend to have her?" 

"Amanda's keeping her this weekend extra. She thought you might like time to settle in and for us to catch up. I told her we'd be fine but, I'm sort of glad she did. Not that I don't want her here but-"

And Louis smiles as Liam continues on. If there's one thing that you can be certain of with Liam, it's that he'll talk about Rosie forever if you let him. And with what Louis _doesn't_ want to talk about, it's kind of perfect right now. He prods at Liam whenever it looks like he's about to slow down or give Louis a chance to talk. Louis manages to keep Liam talking about everything from Rosie to his last girlfriend to what he's been with his songwriting and a load of other subjects until the doorbell rings. Louis excuses himself quick to go and get dressed for this party that Liam's apparently throwing in his honor. Never let it be said he doesn't know how to sway a conversation to his benefit.

It's good meeting new people. All these faces that keep turning up at Liam's door that Louis doesn't know or can vaguely recall from tours in Australia or that he's met through being in Liam's life. It's also good because Liam is hosting so he can't get at Louis again to open up which is perfect for now. Louis drinks and laughs and forgets about what he came to Liam's to escape from. Everyone seems happy to discuss what he's doing while he's here or asking him about normal things like movies he's seen or bands he might have heard. It's weirdly normal and when it gets late and the stars are out Liam finds him out on the deck chatting away with one of Liam's neighbours who's telling Louis all about how good the surf is. 

Louis must look happy enough because when Liam says he's going to leave them and turn in, that's when Louis looks up and notices that just about everyone has gone. It's so late - it's actually become early - the faintest hint of lilac in the sky beyond. It's the quickest time has escaped him without Louis being curled up in bed asleep. It's probably the most normal he's felt since everything went so wrong. It shifts something in his chest and it's almost as if he can feel that this was the best decision for him. Something finally in the "good" column and not the "what the ever-loving fuck have you done?"

Louis waves a few of the others off - not remembering a single person's name - and accepts Liam's one armed hug. He's basically squashing Louis from behind and Lucas is laughing loud while Louis ends up trying to shove Liam off as he attempts to cover Louis' cheek in kisses.

"So fucking glad you're here mate," he slurs as Louis finally gets him off. Liam stumbling back through the doors into the house, Lucas continuing to chuckle as Liam falls arse over tit, landing mostly on the sofa and half on the floor. Louis sort of hopes he's passed out enough not to snore.

"Bloody menace he is," Louis says, wiping at his face and ignoring how Lucas is still chuckling across the table. 

"Only when he's drunk," Lucas says and Louis nods, finishing off the last of his rum and coke. He clicks his fingers as Merry pads past and she turns, putting her head back on his lap like she'd done for most of the night. 

"Liam talks about you a lot," Lucas says, long fingers stripping the label from the bottle he's mostly finished himself. Louis should offer to get up and get them another, he really doesn't want the night to end. It's the best he's felt in a long while.

"I'd say most of it's lies but we both know what Liam's like, so whatever it is probably is not," 

Lucas nods, blue eyes still crinkled at the sides which Louis is learning is just another way that Lucas smiles. He's spent most of the night with Lucas. This entrepreneur who made his first million at eighteen and hasn't looked back since. He hasn't explained what exactly he does - it's involved is all he'd answer - but he seems to do a lot more surfing than actual work from what he's lead on. He's a decent looking bloke, short dark hair, roughly Liam's height but a bit more slender, a little less wide around the shoulders. The skin of his hands looks weathered but not from hard labour, just from being out in the sun. He's got a lovely smile and a dimple in one cheek that originally bugged Louis but he just sat on the other side where there wasn't one and he was fine after that. Fine enough to sit there and involve himself in conversation and laugh and talk and actually feel like life could go on.

"He mentioned you were down here to get over some personal stuff, matters of the heart?"

It should upset Louis that Liam's been saying _anything_ to anyone but for some reason after sitting nearly half the night chatting with Lucas, it doesn't seem to matter all that much. Either that or the abundant amount of alcohol Louis has consumed has just blown any pretence of cares about his privacy completely away. Lucas had discussed his own failed marriage early in the piece. It was something Lucas and Liam had originally bonded over when Liam first moved in. Louis hadn't offered all that much, just nodded and mentioned something about his mum and then they moved on.

"Yeah, something like that," Louis says, taking a breath and finishing his drink so he doesn't have to say anything more.

"It's all good, mate," Lucas answers, brushing off any need for further discussion in that way that Aussie's tend to do, standing up and reaching out for Louis' glass, "last one?"

Louis nods while he's swallowing and Lucas disappears inside only to come back out a short while later, glass in one hand, bottle in the other, chuckling.

"Liam's snoring like a champ in there, got his face smashed into what was probably a plate of guac, or maybe it's puke, who knows," 

Louis cackles, imagining Mr. Germaphobe Liam waking up in whatever it is in the morning. He'll have to take a picture later and send it off to Niall. He'll definitely get a kick out of that one.

Thinking about Niall only makes him think about Harry and that Niall's probably talked to Harry by now and Harry's probably told him everything and Niall's probably waiting for Louis to pick up the phone. Niall's always been like that. The go-between. The one who knew everything about everyone - half the time before they knew about it themselves. He was the first one to discuss what Louis might have been feeling about his bandmate back in their X Factor days before Louis could even admit to himself that it was more than just a misplaced crush. He was the one they all went to when they needed to talk without actually having to spell what was wrong out. 

He must be quiet for too long or look sad or something, because Lucas is kicking at his chair and Louis has to straighten up.

"Louis," Lucas starts and it's not the same lazy drawl that he's known from their conversation before. It's the one he expects to hear from Liam. The one he's been avoiding from Niall.

"Yeah," Louis says, more to Merry than Lucas, gazing into her brown eyes is a lot easier. Dogs can't know what Louis looks like when he's hiding things.

She won't pick up on underlying sadness.

And it's ridiculous because he shouldn't _feel_ the way he does. It's not as if he expected anything from Harry, really. It's not like he's even ready to admit that he wants something with anyone - Harry or not - right now. 

But it doesn't stop the way he feels. This ache in his chest like there's something out of place, not sitting right. The way he sometimes breathes in quick twice, almost as if he forgot for a moment just _how_ to get oxygen in his lungs. It's the way he catches himself staring off into space and will check the clock only to see hours not minutes have passed by. 

It's why he rolls over and closes his eyes when he wakes up in the morning. 

"Louis," Lucas starts, kicking at Louis' chair again. Louis concentrates on Merry's face. On how relaxing it is just rubbing his hand over her fur. 

"Louis, are you alright?"

Louis shrugs, licking at his lips as he tries to find the right answer. His eyes are stinging and he just keeps staring at Merry. Staring until he has to blink because she's going out of focus and then he's biting at his lip because it's starting to tremble and he can't stop it. He can't stop how he feels like he's failed everyone. Failed Eleanor for not loving her properly. Failed himself for even considering that he and Harry could pick back up or start again or _something_. Failed himself for even believing that he was happy with the life that he had at all.

"No," he says after a while, taking a shuddering breath in that feels like it shakes his entire ribcage. "No, I'm not."

Lucas just finishes off the last of his drink, putting it back down on the table top with a loud bump, "Only one cure for that, mate," Lucas says, like he's ignoring the way Louis is barely holding it together. Struggling to keep it all from falling apart. It's stupid because Lucas is no one - he's nothing to Louis - but maybe that's why this is the first time he's answered that question with an honesty he's avoided in the past.

"Yeah?" Louis asks, scrubbing at his face and forcing air out of his lungs in a loud huff. Anything to make himself _breathe_ again.

"You think Liam will let you borrow his board?"

. . .

 

Louis surfs every day. Every day.

He's up at four and at the beach, surfing until the sun's risen and he guesses it's about seven or eight or so, depending on the crowd at the beach. Sometimes, he'll head down to Bronte alone if Liam has Rosie. Other times, it's with Lucas who'll drive him up and down the coast to little inlets and bays that aren't exactly labelled or they have to smile a _lot_ at the locals if they're hopeful about getting any waves at all.

It's nice.

Louis surfs and then he either follows Liam around at his office - because Liam has an _office_ even if they don't start the auditions until May - annoying the shit out of him until Liam gives in and finds him something to do. Or, he'll hang about at the house doing not much at all. It gets a bit boring after being there for a few weeks. He isn't used to doing _nothing_ , not like this, and the whole "you're on a holiday you bloody idiot, you don't _do_ anything on holiday," is getting a little bit old. He needs to be doing something, because as soon as he lets his brain slow and stop it's miles away in London where it's cold and grey. Where things are far too confusing and where Louis has hoped to leave his heartbreak or whatever this is _there_ to deal with when he returns.

Whenever that happens to be.

It's just that.

Even here. This whole other continent within a different hemisphere he still can't escape all the things he's come so far _to_ get away from. The trees are so green and there's Liam's PA who's all chocolate curls and tall and gangly but thankfully his eyes are brown. Lucas has this bark of a laugh and he thinks Louis is funny judging by the amount of times he's near guffawed at even the most stupid of Louis' jokes and then Rosie's Uncle - Amanda's younger brother, James - he's got this habit of making a story last a near lifetime without a point that reminds Louis of a time he'd like to forget. But he can't.

Everyone here has reminders of what he pushed into a box marked "NO under no circumstances NO" when he was back at home and toying with the idea of visiting Liam. He waited for Harry. Waited for some sort of signal that Louis wasn't more than some drunken mistake. He'd waited to see if Harry wanted anything more but nothing had happened. Louis spent a month of wondering if he should make a move - barring that one night of Tequila fuelled stupidity - but Harry was the one that had walked away this time. Harry was the one that came to Louis and Harry was the one who left without a word after apologies fell from Louis' lips like the rain had outside his flats window.

Louis convinces himself that maybe Harry needs time but it's been two months now, heading into three and Harry has Louis' number.

Harry has Louis' number and Harry said that he could find Louis anywhere.

He only has to look.

. . .

They're floating out in the midday sun, just bobbing up and down in the water, pretending that they're waiting on the perfect set but really, they're enjoying the sun after three days of rain and Liam having a Friday morning off. The sky is a perfect blue and the ocean is cold and warm at the same time in ways that Louis has gotten used to since staying down here with Liam. They're not talking, just watching the water and the beach and Louis' mind is wandering to what he should get Rosie for her birthday which is coming up in a few days.

You really can't blame Louis that when he actually _does_ tune back into what Liam's been talking about - he literally falls off his board and into the drink.

Louis comes up spluttering and pulls himself back onto his board with a little more effort than it should need - considering he's still coughing up half the Pacific that's caught in his lungs. Liam's laughing, the sun overhead highlighting the short tips of his hair like a halo, shining off the curve of his shoulder as he reaches out to steady Louis on the board. His eyes are all crinkled up and go even more so when Louis leans over and prods Liam in the chest, right in the middle between the inked o and s where Rosie's name sits under his collarbones. Liam slaps at Louis hand and Louis finds himself rocking again so he leaves off his attack on his friend to put his hands on the board and wait for his equilibrium to return.

"I can't believe you fell off your board, mate," Liam says, still chuckling, hands on his hips now as he tips his head and shoulders back, raising his face to the sun as he stretches.

Louis frowns a little - he hates falling off like some sort of grommet on his first day out on the water - and it's mostly Liam's fault. Well, Liam and someone else's.

"Well you could have lead into your question a little better, Li. Like, not just jumped in there with 'are you fucking Lucas?' A little warning, a little lead up would have been nice!" Louis squawks as he pushes his fringe out of his eyes, wipes the salt water from his face and blinks hard to get everything back into focus.

Liam chuckles and has the decency to look a little abashed - though the pink on his cheeks could just be from the heat. It's still bloody hot out here in the full sun, even if it's the begining of winter. 

"Probably, but I didn't think you were paying attention and I needed something to get us started."

Louis flicks a handful of water at Liam who wobbles a little but manages to keep upright. Bastard. 

"A simple, 'Tommo, pay attention,' would have worked just as well." 

"But then I wouldn't have had the pleasure of seeing you fall off your board," Liam says, looking ever so smug and Louis just mimmicks his words back, but at a higher pitch.

They get quiet again and Louis searches the swell behind him for a moment, looking for a wave and keeping an eye on the shadows below - just in case. But Liam's original question is bugging him.

"I'm not. I mean, I didn't think Lucas was." Louis stutters because _Lucas_ and he's the only other proper friend Louis has down here, "And he's never - I mean there was that _one_ party at his where he kissed my cheek but - we were pissed so. Is he? He doesn't like, _like_ me does he because, like-"

Liam cuts him off with a laugh as he shakes his head, "No, no. Well, he _does_ swing both ways, I know that, but he's never mentioned you-"

"Never?"

Liam lifts a brow at Louis' tone and well, Louis probably could have brought down his tone notch. It's not as if he really _does_ care if Lucas thinks he's shaggable.

Louis isn't into Lucas like that. There's only ever been one boy that he has fancied in that way and well. 

Look how that turned out.

"Louis," Liam says and Louis doesn't have to look up to know he'd be rolling his eyes. "Seriously though, we never seem to have time to talk and you finally look. . . I don't know you look almost happy out here, and ever since you came down that's not a face I've seen a lot. You do spend a lot of time with Lucas, so."

Louis swallows hard and looks down at his board, thinks about how he really isn't that enthused with the new brand of wax he put on it earlier because he ran out of the stuff he loves and had to use the shit Liam does. He pushes aside the fact that he and Liam haven't talked properly about _anything_ that happened back in the UK purely because Louis avoids and Liam is too nice to push. They haven't talked about how when Niall calls, Louis begs off with things to do with Rosie, or if she's not there he "has to take this phone call" about something from someone at his management or any of his other excuses. Louis knows Niall knows there's more to Louis leaving than just ending things with Eleanor. He knows that Niall won't push either, but Niall has always had this way of getting things you don't want to admit out of you, so if Louis' avoiding him? Well, that's just the way it is. 

"I'm fine," Is all he says in return, not even sure where to start.

"Lou-"

"No really. The stuff with El was long in the coming. We were stupid to think we could actually fix everything by living together again, even if I was around more than I ever had been.That might have been the problem, really. She was busy and I was just faffing about, trying to figure out what I wanted after the band and it just all came to a head I guess."

Liam says nothing and Louis is staring down into the water now, focusing on the blue, blue blue of the sea and a lone fish darting through the shadows. It's not helping clear his mind, though. It's not helping with that bubble of everything he's been trying to keep in since waking up that morning with Harry gone, trying to force its way out. He doesn't _want_ to talk about it. He doesn't. He doesn't want to see Liam's face when he actually tells the truth about why he's really been as broken as he has. He doesn't want to see the "why would you do that _again_ " that will surely be there in his eyes. He can't handle the way he _knows_ Liam will say his name after Louis' finished being completely truthful. Something he hasn't even been with himself. He's never been truthful with what he wants from Harry, what he feels. 

Lies were easier to live with.

He's just not sure why it's so much harder now.

"Are you sure that's all there is?" Liam asks, the _I'm here for you_ is unspoken but Louis can hear it all the same as Liam reaches out, fingertips brushing Louis' thigh that he can just feel through the thick neoprene of his wetsuit.

Louis nods, chokes back all the conversations they could have because he knows they won't end well. They didn't end well when things developed at Bootcamp. They were even worse after that first awful meeting with management, fear evident in every sentence Liam spoke. Fear for them. Fear for the band. Fear for a career that had just started for himself. Then there's how sad Liam's eyes were on the bus in the middle of America that first tour, when Louis had brought out the vodka and Liam had just watched Louis drink and cry and gave him a shoulder to lean on while Louis talked himself out of what he truly wanted, and into what would be a "better choice."

The _only_ choice Louis thought would be right for everyone.

Everyone but himself.

Everyone but Harry whose heart he broke.

"Yeah," he lies, words slipping from his lips like the sweat at his brow, "that's all."

. . .

He hears from Eleanor the same week that he's due to actually start _working_ with Liam. It's nothing much, just a text, but it's the first time he's heard from her since he left. She asks about Liam and he sends her a picture of Rosie even though she didn't ask. They chat back and forth and he laughs at her whining about the heat with London going through a heat wave and he's still wearing vests and cut offs even though Liam - who's used to it all - is donning scarves and jumpers. It's nice, really. They aren't up to calling each other yet but it's nice that it's not awful between them. 

She hasn't asked about Harry. And he hasn't offered anything either.

Louis' running a little behind on the day he's due to sit down with the producers and then the groups he'll be working with. Liam always heads in early - has emails and whatever it is that he needs to get done before studio time - so Louis' had to fend for himself. Which meant a quick surf and a drive through at Mickey D's for breakfast. He heads into the building, not paying attention to much as his phone buzzes in his pocket. It's Eleanor and he smiles, because she's wishing him luck, knowing today is his first day, and how he still gets a little jittery even though he's done similar tv roles in the past. Her latest text is about Lilly Allen dropping in and Eleanor accidentally calling her Ally the _whole_ time she was there, and he's laughing so much that he doesn't look up as he enters the room.

When he does, he sort of wants to walk right back out again.

Liam is grinning from where he's stood near the windows, hand reaching out to grab at the shoulder of the only other person there.

Harry.

. . .

Turning and walking straight back out is his first point of action.

The second is to run straight into Minnie Hayes, this irish popstar who Niall may or may not have dated - according to The Sun and The Daily Mirror - and in any case is a familiar face for Louis to cling to. They've knocked about a bit back home, when Niall actually _was_ seeing her (months after the papers had them doing so), and then after because she and Eleanor got along well.

She drags him off to the side, into the corridor and harasses some poor intern or someone out of his own office so they can sit on the sofa and talk. It's mostly Minnie nattering on and on about the weather and coincidences of them both being here and how long it's been since they've seen each other. She's as bright and bubbly as he remembers her being, blonde hair shaved on one side with a few bright yellow and orange bits fluttering about when she nods excitedly at something Louis answers when he's given the chance. She's tiny - barely reaches his shoulder when they stand - but her loud voice and brash personality make up for it entirely. She talks and talks and Louis sinks into the familiarity of her voice because _Harry_ is in the next room and he's just not prepared to contemplate what that means. He's saved from answering her question about "just _how_ are you after the El thing?" by Liam's assistant popping his head in the door and telling them the rest of the team are waiting.

They walk back in and Louis is more than grateful for Minnie's arm wound in his because Harry's not there anymore. He sort of loses his footing when he double takes to check if he's seeing his absence properly. Minnie takes the mick out of him and that has everyone laughing, Louis takes it on the chin because he would have joined in if it was someone else. 

He sits down and they discuss who's with what judge and obviously he's with Liam, working with the groups this year. Minnie is throwing subtle and then obvious shade as the meeting ends about boybands and Liam having them jumping off boxes. It's funny watching Liam get riled up a bit about it because Liam is competitive and he had one of his groups in the bottom two the previous week so he's more on edge than normal. Liam drags Louis off to where the camera's are setting up for the big "mentor reveal" and he's so busy discussing song choices with Louis that Louis forgets about asking why Harry is around.

Well, he forgets until they're finishing up with the big group meet and greet and then there's a bit more noise than before while Louis is chatting to the RnB trio that Liam has this year. There's some excited murmuring and Louis knows without turning who's there. There's only one person with an invisible string that's linked to Louis' centre and the years may have lessened the pull of gravity almost that they have between them, but it's still there. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he has to swallow hard, lick over his lips twice because his throat is suddenly dry. He keeps the grin on his face when the girl he's talking to - this near prodigy of rapping skills at the tender age of sixteen - her eyes grow huge and she stops talking mid sentence and just _blinks_.

"You're Harry Styles," she says after a few beats and Louis hasn't turned around but his back and left side is on _fire_ from how close Harry is. 

"Yeah," Harry says in that stupid deep voice of his and Louis just can _not_ move. He just. . . he can't. Instead he watches as Sara or Samantha or whatever it is her name is blushes beetroot red and Harry laughs but it's not big and loud, it's the one Louis knows is when he's being polite. 

"I have that song you did with Ed Sheeran on my iPod. Listened to it for three weeks straight when I ripped it from Youtube," she gushes and Louis has to try not to say anything because she's talking almost without taking a breath, and from what Louis knows of her from Liam, she's generally a quiet kid.

Louis uses her chatter to move away, just slightly, and he searches to the side and out of Harry's eyeline for Liam, for an out - any out. He finds it in a table filled with bottles of water and Coke products because they're one of the sponsors this year and he wonders for a second if anyone will notice if he has one without Pepsi finding out. Louis turns back and smiles at Sally - _that's it_ \- and touches her arm, excusing himself. He hears Harry softly say his name but he shrugs it off and wanders quickly to the table across the room. He's surprised that his feet carry him there with such ease considering his heart is clanging in his chest so loud and fast he's surprised no one can hear it. 

 

He opens a bottle with a slight tremor to his fingertips, and swallows half of it without even realising he's done so. He's just. He's out of sorts now that Harry is here. And the silly thing is that he wanted something - anything - from Harry for so long and the waiting did his head in and then the silence was even worse. Now Harry's here in _Australia_ of all places and Louis is. Louis feels. . . well he feels a bunch of things that he can't name because everything is slow and its almost as if he's moving through a wall of treacle at every turn. Every breath in and out is this weight on his chest and his heart is pumping his blood sluggishly through his veins. He doesn't look at him - can't - but like it always has been, he can feel where Harry is. Can sense when he's turning his head toward Louis' direction when someone around him is speaking and it shouldn't make his skin feel too tight, gooseflesh prickle his arms but it does. 

"So was it a good surprise then?" comes Liam's voice at his side and Louis can't even look up at him, he knows that if he does Liam will read his face. He'll see the almost terror there and Louis can't do that to Liam. He can't let Liam know that Harry is the real reason he came all this way. Just to escape the not knowing, the endless hate that Louis had for himself and what he'd fucked up in not only his life but of those he was closest to. 

"He was supposed to be in America finishing up the album but he called yesterday about releasing the new single early so it's this huge scoop - how could the network say no?" 

"Couldn't," Louis manages to squeeze the word from his lungs, his fingertips rolling the bottle cap over his thumb while he stares at the table. Of course they'd shift whatever they had planned around. Harry's not as huge as all of them were together as One Direction - but he's got a decent following and there's been hype about this album, more than the little ep he released when the band took a decent break a few years back. Back when Louis could be in the same room with all of them and it was mostly okay. Before he and Zayn fell out over stupid things Louis should never have said and before everything sort of fell apart with none of them caring enough to hold it together. 

"Louis, are you-"

Louis smiles and puts his hand on Liam's shoulder before he can let the rest of that sentence leave Li's mouth. He can hear how Liam's brows will be pinched, how the corners of his lips will be downturned just from the tone of his voice. Louis can't do that. Not to Liam. Not with how Liam's looked after him so much since he arrived without actually knowing what and why he's done it all for. 

"I'm just going to go mingle with this year's answer for what we used to be," Louis says with his best smile plastered on and walks off quickly, all the time feeling two different sets of eyes upon him.

And it's not easy, but he manages to slip and slide out of conversations for the next half an hour as the groups intermingle and they all vie for the attention of any or all ex members of One Direction. He knows Harry's still in the room, can hear his name and feel that underlying tension that returns to the cells of his skin like an old friend. An old unwanted right _now_ friend but there all the same. He shifts around the groups and chats with all of them with a smile and a kind word about stage fright or what it's like to hear words you've written sung back to you in stadiums filled with people who've bought your songs. He can do this. This part of doing things like this on shows like this one are easy. Louis' always loved talking about the creative side of what they did as five young lads making bang for their buck and he likes talking about how they got where they did. They worked hard - _he_ worked hard - for everything they had in their just over a decade spanning career and these kids are so new, so green, it feels good to give them a tiny piece of what he knows. 

Soon, the room quietens because they've all got some vocal training or photo shoots or time to do video things for the behind the scenes online stuff, and the space empties quickly. Louis looks around for Liam and of course Harry's with him. Of course. Louis takes his time walking over to them, plays with his phone for a moment checking for _any_ sort of message to prolong the inevitable but then his twitter feed is pretty silent and there's nothing back from El or anything from Lucas so. He contemplates making a run for it. Harry and Liam look pretty involved in conversation so he could, he could definitely just walk out of the back door instead of the one that leads back inside. He'd have to walk the long way, but he's pretty sure he remembers his way around the building and back to the carpark. He could get in the car and drive, maybe just keep going until he hit the border or further. He could get them to fly up the groups and Liam to Brisbane or something. He's heard the surfs pretty good on the Gold Coast - Burleigh Heads or maybe that place outside Byron Bay he and Liam escaped to one tour with just their minders and their boards - further, even to Darwin or something, just chasing the sun. 

He could go. He could pay back whatever it is he is getting in the way of payment from the show and just head back to London or over to New York and disappear for a while. 

He could keep running from what he hasn't let himself feel properly for Harry since that night in his flat on his spare bed with Harry _there_ and wanting him even if it was just for that night. He could run away from what he thought he might be able to start with Harry again, proper this time, for as long as it takes. For as long as his heart needs to realise he and Harry are just not going to be an option.

There is no Harry and Louis.

Not now. Not really then. Not ever going to be at all.

"Lou! Louis, Harry's taking us out to lunch, come on."

He blinks and Liam and Harry come into focus. Liam's standing there all big smiles with white teeth and genuine happiness near radiating from his every pore. And Harry? Harry looks as nervous as Louis feels. Nervous and utterly gorgeous with his ridiculous black jeans and his faded black tee that probably has some obscure band from the nineties or something on it with the sleeves cut off. Louis can see all the dark lines of ink that he knows and remembers, and the bright colour of the new that he hasn't been around Harry enough to know or understand. His hair is near perfect because the camera crews were here and recording the bands getting to meet Louis and Harry, Louis supposes, and his eyes are just so, _so_ green. 

Louis bites at his own lip when Harry's tongue peeks out to lick over his own. It shouldn't be as sexy as it is, but Louis has always had a thing for Harry's mouth. And his fingers. And his cock and his dimples and his smile and the way he laughs at stupid things, and the way he talks like he's going on and on about shit, but there's usually a method to his slow madness. He has a thing for the way Harry stays silent and watches when he's listening, _really listening_ when someone else talks. He is still so, so in love with the cheesiness that is all Harry's "little things." 

Which makes the decision easy for him really.

He holds up his phone and murmurs something about meeting Lucas and near runs out the door.

. . .

"You know Liam thinks we're fucking," he says to Lucas when he's sufficiently drunk to forget why he started drinking at eleven in the morning and why he showed up on Lucas' doorstep with two bottles of vodka and nothing more. 

Lucas barks out this laugh that has Louis' stomach twisting but he says nothing. He grabs at the near empty bottle of gin - or maybe it's sambucca - on the table that Lucas has a backyard still for, chugging it back without even feeling the burn. Without feeling much at all really. His heads all swimmy and when he moves it's like he's underwater. It's lovely.

"No offence mate, but you're not my type," he winks and takes a shot of whatever it is he's got lined up on his side of the table, grimacing when he bites into a giant lemon he's got cut into quarters. Maybe it's tequila that they're drinking now, then. 

Louis hopes he's hidden his phone.

"Why not?" he asks once he's finished trying to get Lucas into focus, blinking hard because he _knows_ there's not two of him sitting across the table.

Lucas raises his brows and snorts like it's answer enough and Louis is way, _way_ too pissed not to let it go.

He stands up and twists his body to the side, slapping at his jean clad backside with one hand, the other pulling up his shirt to provide the best view. "People have literally _wept_ over this arse," he says and Lucas snickers, hiding his mouth behind his hand.

"It's alright, mate. Seen better," Lucas shrugs, tone dry.

Louis frowns because he _knows_ how good his bum is. He hated it for being so round for so long until he realised in his twenties that it was an asset. He's turning to look down at it and almost falls as he ends up circling himself like a puppy chasing its tail. 

"It's a great bum. Everyone says it's a great bum. Pinchable. Biteable even," he says, squeezing his backside as best he can while still trying to look back over his shoulder at it. "Harry once bit me so hard I couldn't sit down on the bus without a pillow for a week one summer," he laughs and then catches himself because he hasn't. . . he hasn't thought about that in so long and he hiccoughs, laughter dying in his throat because it's _Harry_ and he doesn't want to think about Harry. Definitely not when it comes to Harry and his bum and how much Harry just liked to get his hands on it in the beginning. Can't think about the bruises that Harry's fingertips left on the meat of his arse when he was holding on and making Louis fuck him harder that night when everything felt so wrong and so right, leaving Louis thinking he could have it all.

Leaving him with nothing.

A sob he can't disguise as anything but, leaves his throat and Louis loses his footing, falling back onto the stone wall and sliding down fast. He bumps his head hard on a particularly lumpy bit and that's it then. He's actually crying.

He hasn't cried since. . . well he can't even remember.

Doesn't want to remember.

Louis pulls his knees up close to his chest, rests his head on his hands and doesn't even try to stop the tears from falling. He can vaguely make out the scrape of the wooden chair as Lucas gets up, only feels the warmth of another body at his side a few seconds later when Lucas sits down beside him with a grunt. Lucas puts an arm around his shoulder and tugs at Louis until he falls against Lucas' side, head tucked under Lucas' chin. Louis finds himself biting at his lip, trying to squash it all back in, back down, because he barely knows Lucas and here he is sobbing like some teenage girl that just met their favourite boyband member for the first time. 

He could blame it all on the excessive alcohol they've been drinking. He could blame it all on how the wind has picked up, blowing in dark grey clouds across the ocean opposite them. It's turned the sky this malevolent mix of bright green, whites and slate grey. The sea an echo with its menacing whirl of spray and foam as it hits the cliffs just across the road from Lucas' unassuming little house. The rich green gardens they've looked out on all morning and now afternoon are dull now the sun has gone. 

He could blame it on Liam and his bloody "surprise". He could blame Harry turning up out of nowhere, out of months of no contact whatsoever. He could blame Harry's face and his smile and his _smell_ because he was exactly the same when he stood so close to Louis earlier that morning. He could blame it on himself for daring to think for a minute that they were both finally at a place where being something to each other could be more than words whispered in the dark, fuelled by a passion and need to touch and feel and _hold_ each other like there was no one else that mattered in the world.

"Jesus, Lou, you're bum's the best, alright? It's a great bum. A bum women would build shrines to and men would go to war for. A bum that should be written down in history as the eighth wonder of the world," Lucas says, free arm outstretched like he's surveying the country in front of them. It's enough to make Louis stop sobbing for a moment, the slightest hint of a smile pulling at his lips.

"Not, not the eighth," Louis gets out and Lucas laughs, all soft this time as he pulls Louis in closer and Louis relaxes that little bit more against his chest. 

"Oh yeah?" 

"Yeah," Louis nods, scrubbing the back of his hand against his eyes, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe at his nose where fuck, it had started to run. "Leaning Tower of Pisa's nearly fallen over anyway, one good push with my arse and it'll be right over."

They're both chuckling then, Lucas' usual drunken snorts nearly lost as the wind whips salty air around them. They sit there for a bit, watching the clouds swirl and Louis not thinking about anything other than if the weather will turn enough to give them a proper show. He saw a spectacular electrical storm a few nights after he'd arrived at Liam's, and it's probably weird, but he likes that charged up feeling the air gets before lightning touches down or fills the sky. It's a little bit like that now, matching how Louis feels like he's riding this fine line of possibilities in his life. As if with one more wrong turn, everything he thinks he's finally pieced together will come crashing down once more.

"Do you know what you want?" Lucas asks, breaking the introspective silence that Louis found himself in yet again.

"What I want?" Louis answers with a long sigh, "I want to get up off your floor before some pap sneaks a shot of us. I want to not have the hangover I know I'm going to in the morning and I actually have to work so that's going to be a right joy,"

"No Lou, do you know what you _want_?" 

Louis stops the half hearted retort on his tongue and shakes his head instead. 

Does he know what he wants?

He thought he wanted Harry. Wanted to have all of Harry's attention and love and to have Harry in his bed and in his home and his heart. He thought he wanted to know Harry better - more - after all the years they've let their friendship fade into something of a shadow of what it originally was. He thought he wanted happiness and maybe having Harry in his life again would do that.

But it hasn't and he hasn't got Harry and even with Harry here he still can't fight the urge to run. Run from possibilities of a communication between them that might just break Louis worse than ever before. Because it can't end well between them. It can't possibly be anything in Louis' favour with how long this silence has existed in the shadow of what if's and maybes that Harry hasn't bothered to answer since Louis has been gone. Louis knows he could have forced it. Could have chased after Harry while he was still in the UK. He could have made some grand gesture or just _showed up_ and found out the truth of what had happened after he fell asleep in Harry's arms. He could have talked when Harry answered the phone.

Yet fear held him back, holds him back still.

"I thought I did," he answers softly, "I thought I saw a chance to let myself be truly happy, to share in something with someone I thought would want that and me in return."

"Did you ask him? Did you ask him what he wanted?"

Louis shakes his head, there's a lump in his throat again but he's not going to let it turn into anything else. He's cried enough on Lucas' shoulder. Even if it's nice just having someone to listen that doesn't know _everything_ , who can't judge on how any of this will affect his future. Theirs, if there were to be one.

"Don't you think you should? You're making all these decisions on your own and you don't even know what he wants."

Louis says nothing. He can't when he knows what Lucas is suggesting is the truth.

"Let me put it this way, in a perfect world, where you were just some guy on the street who. . . I dunno lets say cleaned toilets for a living," Louis snorts and Lucas hits his shoulder, "well whatever. You're just any other guy who likes this other guy - would you give up on even the possibility that your feelings might be returned? Forgetting about coming out or whatever other bullshit is standing in your road, Lou. What exactly do you want?"

Thunder rumbles and there's a flash way out at sea that crackles in this neon white across the sky. Louis shivers and he just. He can't think about it that way, because it sounds so simple. So easy to just _go for it_. To just stand up and say what he wants and put himself out there in a way he hasn't in forever. The last time he truly went for what he wanted, it ended up in a decade long career in a pop band so, really, that went quite well. But this? This is so much more than just his own happiness. This is coming to terms with the fact that he does and always has wanted Harry as more than just a friend. He wants that, too. Especially after how tentative even _that_ part of their relationship has been since Louis decided for both of them that their careers meant more than their hearts' happiness. 

"I want it all."

. . .

He hides at Lucas' for the next day and night. He heads into the studio with Liam and helps out like he's supposed to and even goes that one step further, taking the three different groups out for long lunches that they get in a bit of trouble from Liam for. Especially considering Louis knows that they have things to be doing back at the studio, like voice lessons and choreography and such. It's easier than facing Liam or worse, facing Harry.

Harry's around, though. 

Louis' caught sight of his curls at the studio a few times, trailing after Liam considering all he really has to do is have a soundcheck and play on Monday night. Liam keeps at Louis to come out to dinner with them or just home in general and Louis finds excuses that are easier than he thought possible. The first night, it's a last minute party invite with Minnie and he doesn't get back in until four the next morning. He's virtually running on fumes while working in the day with the groups and ignoring Liam's frowns and sighs at every possible turn. The next, Lucas has a 'thing' at Luna Park that's invite only and Louis goes as his plus one. It's actually more fun than he thought it would be, with the rides and how well he and Lucas get along whether drinking or not. It's even more of a laugh when he wakes up to a text from Liam with the Sydney Morning Herald's Entertainment page featuring a high quality shot of "Billionaire Entrepenuer Lucas Sanders and his 'friend', ex-popstar Louis Tomlinson of One Direction." The text part of the message is mostly lines filled with question and exclamation marks but Louis ignores it just the same.

Alice calls because she's fielding "sexuality crisis" phone calls left right and centre and wants to know if this new "friend" of his has anything to do with the possible "kerfuffle" he mentioned before. He assures her it's not, that they really are just friends but asks her would it really be so bad to his career - or what's left of it - if he was?

She's quiet for a moment and that's worrying enough to have him pacing the floor, wishing he had of got changed out of his wetsuit before he gave her a call. The storm a few days earlier has left this damp chill that's set into Louis' bones as much as the grey skies have set in up above. The surf is particularly awesome though, with a few giant swells that have Louis watching from the safety of Lucas' yard over the cliffs beyond. He's surfed on and off for years now, but even the most of the locals are steering clear when he went down early so he ended up just content to watch. 

"I think, that you are at a stage in your life, and in your career, where you could take whatever happens if you were to come out as such, Mr. Tomlinson," she says and it's in her business voice which means she'll say what she thinks Louis needs to hear from that point of view.

"And," he prompts her, because she's been a friend under all the contracts to sign and certain paparazzi to pay off. 

"And," she starts, elongating the word, "Louis, you have to do what's right for you. If you want to come out or whatever then I'll set up interviews with the right people and handle the public side of everything, but," she sighs and he can almost picture her swivelling around in her chair, fingers twisting in her hair as her brown eyes search the ceiling for the words she wants, "but it's not going to be easy. We fought tooth and nail to give you a certain image that you wanted and you pushed for so there's going to be backlash. There's going to be hate because it hasn't been _that_ long since you were Louis Tomlinson, living with long time girlfriend and member of the world's biggest boy band. They'll look even harder into your past and they'll vilify you for lying to them all along."

"But I haven't. I haven't really lied. I don't _like_ cock, Alice. I just. . . I like one in particular and I'm not even sure if anything will come of it but if it does, I want to do it properly this time. I don't want to let anything get in the way of me being happy. Of putting our happiness first."

"Well then, do what you want and fuck all the rest. You've got a good portfolio and there'll be a shit storm for a bit and then it'll blow out. Today's news is tomorrow’s chippy paper, remember that,"

"Yeah," he says on a soft breath out, looking at the refridgerator where Lucas tacked up the Herald's picture of them both. It's already got a jammy fingerprint over part of Louis' face from where Lucas' grabbed at it to put it up. "But the internet's forever."

. . . 

It gets to Friday and he's done all he can with the groups - leaving them to it for their one day off before Sunday's show. He's texting Lucas to see if he wants to meet up for an afternoon surf when his legs are near knocked out from underneath him by a flying curly blonde bullet.

"Uncle Louis! Uncle Louis! You have to come to tea! Uncle Harry is cooking for us!"

He looks down at where Rosie has her arms wrapped around his legs, smile big and still partially toothless, lips sticky with what he assumes was the lollipop now stuck on his jeans.

"Oh is he?"

She nods fast, still gripping his legs tight. "Yes! He's going to make my very favourite that he always makes when he comes over. But I can't tell you because it's a secret,"

Louis can hear footsteps echoing in the corridor and he _knows_ who it'll be.

"Rosie, are you wiping your sticky fingers all over Uncle Louis? Didn't we have a talk about personal space just five seconds ago?" Liam sighs as he stops, hands on hips just in front of them.

Rosie squints, eyes determined, and if anything, tightens her grip.

"Rosalind Karen Payne-" Liam begins, only to stop when she pulls off from Louis' legs, a huff and pout of her own as she echoes the stance her father's in.

"Uncle Louis doesn't _care_ , Dad. He _likes_ me in his person space,"

"Rose," Liam says with a stern tone, which Rosie answers with a roll of her eyes, arms crossed over her chest so the lollipop in question sticks to the tiny pink bobbles on her woolen knit jumper.

Rosie stares up at Liam and Liam stares back down at her and Louis has to bite at his lip not to laugh a showdown of Payne stubbornness is never going to end well. As he looks away to the side his eyes lock with perfect green and. He really isn't ready for this.

Harry's grin is a mile wide, dimples so deep you could probably poke your fingers in them and get lost up to the first knuckle. There's so much humor reflected in the creases at the corner of his eyes, the deep lines that curve out more than they did when Louis first shook hands with this gorgeous _boy_ of sixteen in a loo of all places. He's got his curls tucked up under one of those grandpa slouch hats he's loved over the years, but they're still unruly, breaking out to curve around his ears and one just off centre of his forehead. He catches Louis staring and his smile drops, then grows wider and Louis can't stop looking at him.

There's so much to be said and there's so much Louis doesn't want to admit to and he wants to get closer and run a mile all at once. He hears Lucas in his head asking what he wants, and Eleanor telling him to be happy, and he hears Harry's broken, almost strung out pleas that night and it's too much. Too much.

"Uncle Louis, _tell_ him,"

And whatever was going on or not between their shared looks is gone because Rose is staring up at him again, brows pinched in the middle. Her brown eyes look absolutely determined and for a moment, he wonders how she knows that he's avoiding speaking to Harry at all.

Then he remembers, "I don't mind you in my 'person space', Rosie," she spins and grins up at her dad, all white teeth and pink gummy gap where new ones will grow, "But, I would rather you kept your sticky sweets off my clothes, love," he finishes gently and her face falls.

Liam looks like he's about to add something, but doesn't have to when Rosie just pops her sweet into her mouth with a, "Uncle Niall wouldn't care."

Harry barks out a laugh and Liam's shaking his head, taking Rosie's arm with words about washing her hands before going anywhere near his car.

He's so busy watching Liam with his daughter that he fails to realise that he's still in the corridor. Still with Harry.

Well, until Harry clears his throat and then Louis is blinking and looking anywhere but at Harry because they haven't been alone together since. . . well since that last time when things weren't awkward like they are now.

"Lou-"

"I'm going surfing," he says, cutting Harry off because he _knows_ that tone Harry said his name in. Knows the words that come after it won't be anything Louis wants to hear. Wants to discuss. Not now.

Not with how much he wants what he isn't sure he can have. Isn't even sure if he's allowed to ask for. As much as he wants to have this conversation, to discuss what he wants and feels he just. . . being here with Harry right now still has him feeling unprepared. He just isn't ready - not as much as he thought he was. 

"Can I come? I mean, I don't have to do much with dinner tonight it's just this stir-fry thing with sorbet for dessert but I made that earlier when you and Li were here. I just. I think we need to-"

Louis must look like he's about to run or say something that isn't "sure, let's talk," because Harry is backtracking fast.

"Or not. I mean surfing is good. Surfing is great. I spent some time at Cal's beach house just before I came over and I've got my board and everything and if you could say something it would be really helpful here, Lou, because I can't find a good place to stop-"

"Fine, okay. Sure," Louis says, just needing Harry to _stop_ and Harry deflates, shoulders losing a tension Louis isn't sure Harry even knew was there.

His face breaks out into one of those huge smiles again - if not a little hesitant - bottle green eyes sparkling. "Great. That'd be. That's great."

Louis turns on his heel and starts walking toward the carpark, not listening to hear if Harry is following or waiting for him to at any chance.

He knows Harry falls in step beside him. He can still feel it, that invisible presence that binds them together - maybe even tighter than before with how close Harry is now. It's not fair that Harry can affect him like this. Not fair that Liam's buggered off with Rosie somewhere and left him alone with Harry when it was all he wanted for so long and now it's just. It's hard. Really hard.

He keeps it together as they make their goodbyes to those in the studio and offices. Louis somehow getting his face to work, smiles for those he knows, a quick wave for those he's not entirely sure he does. It feels like his skin is too tight, goosebumps peppering his side closest to Harry and it takes everything he has not to rub at his arm to stop them. They don't speak any more and it's a blessing but it's also not because the nothing said is just as bad. They get out to the carpark, waving to one of the security lads and Louis stops walking when he gets to his car which is a few down from Liam's.

"Look um," he starts, hand on the door when he spins around and looks up, not expecting Harry to be so damn close. He's virtually on top of Louis and it has Louis swallowing everything he was going to say to hopefully change Harry's mind.

Harry just smiles - a little nervously - fingers twitching through his hair as he tips his cap off. It's the familiar shake out and shove back that has Louis stomach twisting and his own hand itching to reach up and touch and feel and _grip_ those curls.

He balls them into fists at his side instead.

"Do you think, is it okay if we ride together and maybe stop off at Liam's first? My board's there and my wet suit." Harry's looking down at his feet and it's the most endearing thing that makes Louis' heart beat double time.

Why did he even say yes to this? How did he possibly think being alone with Harry for any amount of time would be a good idea? Not now. Not with how he still wants to reach out and touch and yet push Harry away because Harry _didn't call_. Harry didn't stay and Harry left and left Louis second guessing everything he thought was a possibility and as much as Louis has _tried_ to let it go. He hasn't. He's still so very unsure.

"My stuff's all at Lucas'," he blurts out because - well, it is - but Harry's just so close and Louis can see the glittery gold pieces mixed through the green he sees in his dreams nightly. 

Harry's face falls and he nods, taking in a shaking breath and releasing it with this smile that wobbles his lips at the corners until Harry bites at them to keep them still.

"He has spares, like a board and Liam's got an old wetsuit there, too, so, let's just. Let's go."

Louis turns then, opening the car and getting in and just tapping his fingers on the steering wheel while he waits for Harry to get in. He starts the car up as soon as he hears Harry opening the door and turns up the radio, some mindless radio drivel with idiot DJ's bantering before whatever top 40 track comes in loud and fast. Harry doesn't say a word and Louis doesn't either, he puts the car into gear and they leave and Louis tries to remember the fastest route back to Lucas'.

The drive is tense - mostly because Louis is gripping the wheel for dear life - hoping that the music will be loud enough, distracting enough, that Harry won't attempt any form of conversation. He doesn't, and Louis is both thankful and a little sad that he doesn't say anything at all. But it's okay, really, because Louis isn't sure _how_ to even talk to Harry anymore. Not with everything that's unspoken between them, everything that probably should be talked about but Louis finds it all sticking in his throat. His tongue heavy in his mouth and his gut churning with the possibility of finally having answers and the possibility that they might be what he wants to hear. Or not.

Lucas isn't home when they arrive - not that it matters - because Louis knows where the spare key is. He lets them in and Harry follows behind at a distance that Louis can feel with how the hairs on the back of his neck are standing on end. He leads them through rooms that are familiar. Past the main bedroom where Lucas has obviously not made the bed from the night before, and the spare where Louis actually _did_ tidy up. They reach the kitchen and Louis is reaching up, trying to find the little basket where Lucas keeps the keys for the shed where all his surfing stuff is kept at the bottom of the garden. There's a gate that leads directly over to Bronte Beach from there and an outdoor shower which is another reason Louis loves this house. He can feel the thing right at his fingertips but it's _just_ out of reach, even now as he boosts himself up on his tip toes. Bloody fridge is a monster in size, double doors and extra height and mostly filled with fruit and vegetables and beer. 

"Here, let me," this voice comes from right behind him, the words a hot breath on his neck and _oh_. 

Harry's like this presence behind him, front pressed right up against Louis as he reaches up and over his shoulder. Harry's hand covers Louis' and the basket as he grabs it and pulls it closer and Louis isn't breathing anymore. His heart thunders ridiculously loud in his ears and it's so strong it's almost as if he can _feel_ his pulse thumping through his veins. He's certain Harry can see it, his face must be _right there_ at Louis neck as he pulls back. Louis can't see, only hear the keys rattling together above them, all soft metal music loud in the absolute silence of the room. 

Harry's right there. _Right there_ behind Louis and Louis can't. He can't do anything and Harry isn't moving back he's _staying_ there and it's so much. So much. 

There's this whisper at his ear, this breathy whine and Louis hears Harry gasp and he realises it wasn't Harry making that sound at all. It was him. He's not sure if that's worse, because Harry's reacted, the distance between their bodies closing further as Harry leans in and Louis can feel Harry's lips on his skin. This brush at his neck and Harry breathing out and Louis gulps - physically gulps - in air at the sound. At the feel. At the _everything_ whatever this is has become.

Harry's hand covers Louis lightly and with Louis next quick breath, there's a burning touch where long fingers cover his hip, sliding under his shirt, over his skin. Louis' free hand twitches at his side, not sure if he should pull Harry's hand off or hold it on, finally settling on squeezing his fingers into a tight fist. Louis turns his head a little, leans his cheek against the cool of the fridge as the tip of Harry's nose brushes the underside of his jaw, right at the hinge and down. Louis' fingers flex under Harry's and then there's Harry's thigh right against his own as his chest aligns with Louis' back. Louis mind is racing so fast he can't even begin to make clear thought it's just feel and touch and the next thing and the next that fall into quick clarity. It's the tickle of Harry's hair on his cheek. The pause in Harry's breathing that's followed by the wet sound of Harry licking over his lips. There's the cold press of the keys between his thumb and forefinger as Harry's hand lowers over his own. 

Louis closes his eyes and it's worse. It's worse because every single shift of air is magnified and Harry is all encompassing and there hasn't been a word said between them and this feels more intimate than any sort of speech at all.

Louis wants to speak. Wants to say something - anything - but it might end whatever this is and it's probably been seconds but it feels like eons. This knife edge of past and present and future and with one single wrong move it could all go terribly wrong. Or right. 

But one of them will have to do something. Something more, something less. _Something_.

When Harry does - because of course he does - it's this rumble, this deep guttural near hurt sound that is a half choked version of Louis' name and Louis is ready to crumble, knees weak.

"Lou," Harry breathes again, face almost tucked into the curve of Louis neck and Louis can _feel_ Harry's lips brush his skin as he says the word once more.

And this is it. This is the moment he's been wanting and avoiding since Harry arrived. Since he made that stupid drunk phone call. Since he fell asleep in Harry's arms and wanted to wake him up a dozen different times and ask him _why?_. Why now and why then and just _why_ after all this time would he think Louis was ready to change his mind?

Louis opens his mouth, then swallows because it's just so dry - like the heat of Harry's touch has sucked the moisture from his body. Evaporated the air in his lungs that he needs for speech.

"Lou, Lou, Lou, Lou," Harry repeats his name over and over and squeezes his fingers over Louis' hip and Louis twists under his touch. He has to look, has to see Harry's face.

It's worse, it's so much worse when he twists around and Harry's got his hand on Louis' chest now, this barely there touch right over Louis heart and he must. He must be able to feel how hard it's beating. The rabbit-like _thumpathumpathumpa_ that's echoing through every fibre of Louis being.

He opens his eyes and Harry's got his closed, dark lashes fluttering against the sunshine warm tan of his cheek. Harry's shaking his head a little, or maybe just shaking, and Louis wants to touch, too. He wants, like the night of Harry's birthday, all a little drunk and stupid on half made apologies and need. He wants, like the night they locked eyes across the width of Wembley's stage during Niall's speech, high on endings and beginnings. He wants, like the first night they spent in their flat, all fingers and thumbs and admissions of love. God how he _wants_ , and it's all there for the taking.

Louis just has to reach out and _grab_.

"Well, what's going on here?"

Louis' mouth shuts, biting down what he was going to say at the sound of Lucas' voice. Harry is gone, jumping backwards and dropping the keys at the same time as he knocks into what was a bowl of apples on the bench opposite. There's apologies falling fast from Harry's mouth as he struggles to pick up the fallen fruit, face hidden by his dark curls, large hands unable to hold everything at once with how he's shaking still. 

"Harry-" Louis starts but Harry's already dumping the fruit in the bowl and heading back out the way they came in moments before without a word.

Lucas eyes widen as he turns back from watching Harry go and faces Louis with questions Louis isn't sure he'd like to answer. 

Louis' head cracks against the metal of the refridgerator instead as do his hands curled into fists with frustration because he was ready. Might have been ready. To admit, to ask, to just _speak_ to Harry and now he's gone and.

"Fuck!" Louis shouts.

He slams his head against the fridge a few more times hoping to knock some sort of sense into himself and Lucas just says nothing until he stops.

Louis grimaces and rubs at his head as Lucas picks up the one lone apple that had rolled to his feet, the only one Harry hadn't picked up.

"Well?" Lucas says, brows raised as his eyes dart toward the doorway Harry's just vacated from. He takes a bite from the apple and chews slowly as he apparently waits for Louis answer.

Louis shrugs his shoulders and answers with a terse, "What?" his head hurts and his cock is still half hard which is sort of embarassing but he's more pissed off with himself for letting any of that happen at all.

Lucas rolls his eyes. "Aren't you going to, oh I don't know, go after him?"

Louis blinks and Lucas just stares back and. Oh. Right.

"Yeah," he breathes out in a whoosh, "yeah, I could do that."

Lucas bites into the apple again, this loud crunch and more as he chews and speaks around his food, "Might want to get going then, it's not as if Harry knows the area and there's always at least one pap around Liam's house, mate, if that's where he's headed."

Louis pushes off the fridge and starts moving, forgetting about the company he's keeping as he adjusts himself, "Do you think that's where he's gone?"

Lucas shakes his head again, "Louis, does he even _know_ how close I live to Li? He's probably running down the street like a chook with his head cut off hoping that I'm not coming after him with a butcher's knife. Which really, doesn't make all that much sense seeing as he wouldn't be able to worry if he had no head,"

Louis' frowns, "Lucas, _you're_ not making any sense, you know that?"

Lucas just smiles, "and neither is you standing here when you could be running after the bloke you're in love with, who probably ran out thinking that I'd caught him in a precarious position with my boyfriend."

"But you're not my boyfriend."

Lucas takes a deep breath through his nose, swallowing before he answers, "Yeah, but does Harry know that? There has been talk in the papers and Liam even asked me, so,"

Louis' eyes open wide. Oh, oh shit. That's why he ran. That's why he jumped back so fast and why he was such a dick with the fruit and that's why he's gone and fuck. "I'm such a fucking idiot," Louis says, rushing past Lucas, his friends laughter echoing down the hall.

Harry's not in the car when Louis virtually jumps out the front door - not that Louis expected him to be - but it was a passing thought. When Louis looks up and down the street, he can't see a living soul which is great in case of paparazzi that occasionally follow Louis around, but terrible in his hunt for Harry. Louis figures Harry might have headed toward the beach, so he walks that way, waiting for six bloody cars to go down the road before he can cross over to the path near the cliffs where he can get a better look up and down the coast. It takes him a few moments, but eventually he spots a familiar head of hair flagging down a taxi and he calls out, screams Harry's name but it's hopeless. The sea is loud and the traffic louder and Harry is too far and like that.

Harry's gone.

. . . 

 

Liam meets him at the door when Louis finally gets back to the house. He's got Rosie in his arms, her sleepy face lying mostly smooshed on his shoulder. Liam shakes his head as Louis steps back, letting Liam out.

"Why didn't you say anything about what happened with you and Harry?" he whispers, but it's terse and the set of his thick brows and thin line of his lips sets the tone.

Louis shrugs his shoulders. "It didn't come up,"

Liam laughs, "Didn't come up? Of course it didn't. You haven't talked to me in the whole time you've been here! I've waited for you to say something and you fucked off with Lucas and ignored me. Did you think I wouldn't listen?"

Louis looks down at his feet, props himself up against the wall. "No, it's not like that. I know you would it's just-"

"It's just _what_?" Liam gets a bit louder and Rosie snorts in his arms. He pauses, pressing his lips to her forehead and then sets his eyes back on Louis, "I've had you walking around on eggshells since Harry got here and him with the sad puppy eyes, I want to understand but neither of you are saying anything, so how can I help you?" 

"I should have. I just," Louis pauses, trying to find the words that are as truthful as he dares, because Liam is asking and he sounds hurt that Louis hasn't said a word. That Louis didn't _trust_ him and it's. . . it's not like that, but to Liam it is. "Look, I came here to get away from everything and then it was so easy to pretend what happened didn't mean anything because Harry obviously didn't want it to and then-"

Rosie stirs in Liam's arms and he shifts her weight. She does that thing that small children and drunk adults do, smacking her lips a few times before a little snore settles her back down.

"And what about tonight then? What was that? Because it sounds to me like-"

"Daddy, I want to go to bed," Rosie whimpers a little and Liam's face softens as he strokes his hand up and down her back.

"You can, sweetheart, Daddy's just talking to Uncle Louis and then we're going to your mum's."

"Uncle Louis didn't come. I want Uncle Louis," Rosie whines and she sounds as if she's winding up to a good strop. "Uncle Louis promised, I want Uncle Louis!"

Liam stares at him and mouths, "See what you did!" and Louis feels worse than he possibly did before.

"Hey Posie, I'm here, do you want a cuddle before you go home?" Louis says softly, reaching out a hand, fingertips brushing against the curve of her cheek.

"Don't want to go, I want to stay with you," she says through a yawn, wriggling against Liam and turning to grab at Louis. It's breaking his heart seeing her like this, and it's worse because he knows it's his fault. Yet another in a long line of wrong doings that he's done that have outcomes that affect more than himself. He's such a selfish prick. He goes to say something, stepping closer when her hand comes up to grab at where his is still on her face but Liam gets in first.

"You can't stay tonight, little love, Daddy has work in the morning and your Nan is picking you up to go to ballet remember? Can't miss that now can you?"

Rosie's eyes blink open as she looks up at Liam, her bottom lip wobbling. "But I don't want to go to ballet, I want to stay!" she whines and then the tears start rolling down her cheeks, her little hands batting at his chest.

Liam closes his eyes and sighs, folding his arms around her, holding Rosie close as she starts crying proper. When he looks at Louis again it's with a hard stare that has Louis wanting to drop his gaze and focus on the ground. "She was so excited about having you both at dinner tonight. She missed you this week and you _promised_ her you'd be here."

"I wanted to, it's-"

"Do what you like with your own life, Louis. But don't fuck around with my daughter’s," Liam says sternly and Louis' shoulders drop. It's times like these that he's reminded that Liam really _is_ a Dad and it makes him think about his mum and the end of the relationship he had with her. Well, maybe just missing the part when he was young and she cared more about him than where "Louis Tomlinson of One Direction" could get her. 

Liam's left Louis alone out the front as he heads toward his car, Rosie still fighting him the whole way, even as he puts her into her car seat. It's only when he's shut her in and is about to open his own door that he turns toward Louis. Louis takes a deep breath and watches as with the bright white of the security light over head, he can see the disappointment in Liam's stare. There's a sense of sadness there too and Louis wants to look away. Wishes for a moment that he never came down here at all.

"Just, talk alright. Say all that needs to be said."

Louis' frowns, not understanding as Liam gets into the car and starting it up. Liam winds the window down to call out one last thing as he starts the big black beast of a Range Rover. "It's my turn to have Lucas tonight, just make sure you lock up, after."

Louis is about to ask what that means, but Liam reverses out the drive without another word and disappears. Louis watches until the car is out of sight, the gate sliding shut and the road silent for a long time before he heads inside. 

Talk. It's not as if he hasn't thought about it. Talking to Liam about everything - rehashing how wrong he was to think he could be happy with pushing his real feelings about Harry aside back in the early years or even now. Talk about how yet again he ran from what he wanted because he was afraid he'd actually have to fight for it. To chase Harry this time instead of it being the other way around. 

Louis doesn't bother putting the lights on as he walks through the house. He knows it well enough in the dark by now and there's a full moon tonight painting the way with soft light. He grabs a beer out of the fridge and heads toward the living room, there's got to be a match from home on that he can watch. Anything, so it can block out all the things he should be doing, all the ridiculous circular conversations going on in his head. The things he should have pushed to say with Harry, questions he could have asked instead of being all overcome with just Harry being there. Being so close with his warmth and his eyes and his stupid, stupid curls. 

Louis' not really paying attention when he twists the cap from the beer - it's not one of his favourites but it's something Liam's come to love while living here - but it'll do. He's wondering what Harry said, because he obviously said something to have Liam reacting the way he did, when he finally looks up and sees that he's not alone. Louis drops the beer onto the floor, the bottle bouncing twice before rolling on its side, spilling liquid along the hardwood floor only to rest at the edge of the thick rug Liam has in here. He blinks and blinks and no, Harry is still there.

Harry, who's just got his head in his hands and body slumped forward. He's sitting in the corner of the three seater sofa which up until a week and a bit ago was claimed by Louis' own bum as his spot. He doesn't move or react just flinches when Louis softly says his name.

Louis says it again, fingers twitching at his side because he doesn't know what exactly to do. Harry's here and now Liam's comment about talking is making a lot more sense and the part about him claiming Lucas for the night. Louis wants to laugh - because obviously this was a trap to get him in the same room with Harry and alone - but by the look of Harry all hunched up and small, maybe it's not just a trap for him.

Louis focuses on the one thing he can do right now, which is pick up the bottle and maybe get to cleaning up the one mess he's made that just requires a cloth. He's bent over with the bottle in one hand when Harry finally speaks.

"You know, I thought this time would be different."

Louis says nothing, straightens up and picks at a loose thread at the hem of his grey hoodie. He can hear Harry shifting on the sofa. Wonders if he's getting up but doesn't look. Can't. 

"I'm sorry I left you that night. I had. . . I needed to fix things and I really thought," he pauses and then Louis can see Harry's boots. He isn't too close, and Louis knows Harry's keeping a distance on purpose. 

"I thought with all the things you actually did say, I thought they meant something. I know it was while we were in bed and you're not supposed to trust in what's said in the moment or whatever, but, you've always been the most honest when you're fucking someone."

Louis feels the words Harry's throwing at him like a slap in the face, even if Harry's speaking slow and soft. He opens his mouth to say something - anything - but he can't. He just can't find the words to tell Harry he's wrong or to say all the things he wants to, has wanted to.

"I thought I was wrong, I thought I had it all wrong. Then I came here and you couldn't even _look_ at me and Liam told me how sad you were and I thought," he laughs then, this hollow, horrible sound and Louis' got a lump in his throat, it hurts to swallow. 

Harry sighs, "I don't know what I thought. Then you just looked so good today, and you actually talked to me and I felt it, you know? I felt what I'd been telling myself was some stupid left over rubbish from when we were young and I really thought you felt it too, that you wanted something, wanted me, but I guess you didn't,"

"I did. I do," Louis speaks up, eyes focused on Harry's boots because this conversation hurts. It's making it hard for him to even breathe with how heavy everything Harry says is laying on his shoulders.

"No," Harry says and Louis looks up, watches as Harry's curls fly across his face, hiding his eyes in shadow. "I don't think you did at all,"

Louis stares at Harry hard, can hardly believe that Harry's putting the nothing that their night was and the after of it down to him. Not when Harry was the one who left this time. Harry who disappeared without a word. Suddenly, he's tired of being quiet and sitting back and watching what he wants fall through his fingertips. If this is it, then he want's to get it all out. Everything.

"It's not like that. I woke up and you were _gone_ , Harry. I woke up thinking something had changed between us and you were gone and you never called and you never came back. You were just _gone_ ," Louis near shouts, it's like Harry's prompted him to let it all out. All the hurt and frustration at having Harry leave him that morning, leaving him after, just _leaving_ is bubbling up and finally finding a voice.

"Like all the times you've left me?" Harry asks, tone cutting and Louis staggers back, almost feeling Harry's words like a physical blow.

"I was always the one chasing you, Lou. I chased you when we met and I chased you all the way through those first years together until you pushed me away so hard my feet couldn't find ground. Then you come to my party and you don't even talk to me but you let me into your house and you let me have this look, this tiny glimpse of what I've always wanted. And I wanted it. I wanted you so much that I figured it was time for things to be turned around," Harry steps closer and he's got his hand up, pushing at Louis' shoulder, "Let _you_ be the one to come for me and let me know that you were in it just as much as I was. And what did _you_ do?"

"I called! I called you!" Louis says, pushing Harry's hand away, this isn't how he wanted to have this conversation - this _talk_ \- with Harry. He never pictured it with his blood boiling for all the wrong reasons. 

"Called and hung up! You didn't say a _word_!" Harry comes back, stepping further into Louis' space and Louis has to step back. Even in the low light from the staircase, he can make out the fire behind Harry's eyes. How serious this has become.

"Then I get in touch with Liam because no one's heard from you - not even Niall - and you. You had to leave the _country_ this time, Lou? You couldn't handle talking to me that much that you run so far you change timezones?"

Louis remains quiet because Harry's voice cracked in that last accusation and it echoes with the lines in Louis' heart that have splintered every time he pushed Harry away when they were young. Every time he saw Harry smiling at someone that wasn't him. Every time he thought about Harry and all they could have had if Louis had only _stood still_ instead of run.

"I tried, I-" Louis starts but Harry's so angry, so hurt that he doesn't let Louis get a word in.

"What? You broke up with your girlfriend and thought I'd just jump back into your bed as an easy fuck?"

Louis recoils, shaking his head and turning from Harry's touch, "Fuck you, Harry," he says and takes one step before Harry's got his hand on Louis' shoulder again, spinning him around.

"No, you don't get to run this time. You don't get to leave. I felt how much you wanted this, wanted us to be something this afternoon and yeah, I didn't realise that there was nothing between you and Lucas and I left but I've stuck around. I keep sticking around even when I don't want to and I need you, I need you to be the one who does it this time, Louis. I need you to show me that you won't go."

He's breathing so fast that it feels like oxygen isn't even getting into his lungs. His head is fuzzy and his heart is this ridiculous rapid thump in his chest and it's too much. The space between them feels too far and too close and Louis wants to shove Harry away and pull him close but Harry's right. Harry's always been right and even now, knowing that he wants _everything_ with Harry he still finds it impossible to just do it. To have it all.

"Please, please, Louis," Harry begs, this breathy sound and it's wet and there's a reflection from the moonlight hitting the mirror to the side of them that lights up wetness on Harry's face. Harry's fucking shedding tears about this and Louis' not that far behind. His eyes sting but he's shaking. He's shaking so much.

"Harry," Louis says, hand lifting to close the distance between them. "I'm not going anywhere," he whispers because it's the truth and Harry needs to know and he's so _tired_ of not having what he wants. Of not taking the happiness he could have, should have. Of not having what was theirs all along. When his fingertips brush Harry's cheek, Harry crumples forward with a gasp and Louis' drops the bottle again, so he can pull Harry in close. 

It's more than anything when Harry falls against him. It's every good feeling he's ever had when Harry's arms wrap around Louis body, Harry's forehead pressing against Louis as he cups Harry's face with both hands, sweeps his thumbs over Harry's cheekbones to brush every tear away. He wants this to be the last time he makes Harry cry about this. The last time Harry ever has to feel like this - them - is something he has to be unsure about. 

"Louis," Harry chokes out and his eyelids flicker, opening slow and sticky, eyelashes clumping together. The corners of his lips are turned down and Louis can't have that. As fast as his heart is beating and as hard as this is to admit to, he can't have Harry looking like this anymore.

"Lou-" Harry says again just as Louis pushes up and brushes their lips together. It's wet and Louis bumps their noses together, but then Harry's grip tenses on Louis hips so he tilts his head a little more and Harry leans in and yeah. That's it. That's better. 

It's soft and sweet and Louis can feel every shuddering rush of breath from Harry's nose against his skin and when he flicks his tongue over his lips pulling back to breathe there's this barely there taste of salt. Harry's just holding him and their kisses are lazy and slow and utterly perfect. It's like that old saying about never forgetting how to ride a bike and yeah - this is that but better. This is all the years between them and all the things they've admitted to and all they haven't yet said. 

Harry's grip tightens on Louis' hips where they fell the moment their lips met and Louis can't stop touching Harry. His fingers slide around the back of Harry's neck, find silken curls and he _tugs_ Harry closer still. Harry moans into Louis' mouth as Louis slips his tongue in, tasting the beer Harry must have had earlier and the ginger from dinner and then he tries not to think about anything else but Harry anymore. It's the sounds Harry makes and the way Harry isn't pushing for more but letting Louis guide their every move. It's so un-Harry like that it makes Louis pause for a moment, just a second to breathe in but Harry's right there. Harry's hands have slipped over his hips and Louis notices for a second that they've landed on his arse but then he's being lifted up. Louis' got to wrap his legs around Harry's waist, elbows resting on Harry's shoulders as he gasps and Harry laughs against his cheek. 

Louis turns his head so he can look into Harry's eyes, notices his kiss swollen lips and how wide his smile is, dimples so deep and he looks. . . he looks exactly how Louis feels. Louis runs his hands over Harry's shoulders, feeling the muscle he's built up there, pressing his thumbs into the dips of his collarbones over his shirt. 

'I'm sorry," Louis starts, shaking his head as he just keeps _touching_ because he can. Because he's allowed to. "I thought I was happy y'know? I thought I could make myself happy and make everyone happy but. . . I broke your heart and never really let anyone into mine,"

It's probably ridiculous to be saying this now, when he's got Harry's hands on his bum and he's wrapped around Harry's body tight. It's all he can think about, though, being honest this time around. No more words left unspoken between them.

"Hey," Harry says, nudging Louis with his head, "Hey," he repeats and Louis takes a deep breath before looking up through his lashes because he's feeling overwhelmed and Harry's being so gentle. So nice. "It's okay. It's. . . it is what it is, alright?" and Louis snorts because it's the exact reason he has his chest piece. 

Harry's grip tightens on Louis' bum and he remembers why they were in this position in the first place, the fact he's in Harry's arms because Harry wants him to be. Because he _wants_ Louis just as much as Louis wants him.

"I'm just saying-" Louis beings only to have his words swallowed by Harry's mouth. Harry's kissing him hard and fast and Louis can barely keep up. His fingers dig into the curve of Harry's broad shoulders and _christ_ , his jeans are too tight for this. Harry's pulling him in and Louis can't help but rock up against Harry as much as possible which, yeah, feels _amazing_ , but it's not enough. It's not enough because Louis hasn't said enough and Harry hasn't heard enough and.

"Stop thinking, just. Stop." Harry nips at Louis' jaw and Louis chuckles because even after all this time, Harry still knows him best. 

Louis tilts his head to the side giving Harry room to further explore his neck with that sinful mouth of his. "I just feel like, I _owe_ you so -" but he doesn't get to finish again because Harry's kissing him once more. Kissing him and kissing him and Louis is pretty sure they're moving now because he's being bounced against Harry's body and well - that's something nice, too. 

When Harry finally pulls back for a second, Louis manages to find his voice, "Are you going to kiss me every time I try to-" The word "talk" is muffled with Harry's mouth once more but Louis can feel him smiling into it. Louis' traces the curve of Harry's neck with his fingertips, thumb pressing against the beat of his heart rapid under thin skin. He can't stop touching Harry. His curls slide through Louis' fingertips, the rough spike of light stubble under his jaw. Louis wants so much but he wants to clear the air between them all at the same time.

"Harry, Haz," Louis tugs at Harry's hair, pulls him away from where he is sucking what's going to be a pretty impressive mark on Louis' neck. " _Harold,_ " 

"Mmm?" Harry smiles into Louis skin, lips soft over the sharp cut of Louis' Adam's apple. 

Louis moans because it tickles in just the right way, his thighs tensing around Harry's waist and yeah, that's a definite sign of how Harry's getting hard from just _this_. "I think, I think maybe we should talk. _Yes, just like_ , like get everything sorted between us. _Harry,_ can you just-"

Louis back hits a wall and knocks the breath from his lungs. Harry leans in, brushes the tip of his nose across Louis' cheek. "Stop? You want me to stop, now?" He punctuates the "now" with a roll of his hips and maybe Harry's right. Maybe this can wait.

Louis shakes his head, as Harry attacks his neck again and Louis sucks in air hard because the friction between them is delicious. He starts pulling at Harry's shirt, tugging it up and up over the wide expanse of his back, murmuring ridiculous sounds because Harry hasn't stopped marking Louis' skin. Harry's grinding his hips up and in, all delicious and rough as their cocks align in just the right ways between the denim that separates them. Louis calling out Harry's name all loud and guttural when Harry's hand slides up his thigh, hitches Louis knee up further and _yes_. Perfect.

"Harry, Harry, I just. Can, your shirt. Want to," Louis pants, squeezes air through his lungs enough to get most of the words he needs out amongst how _good_ what Harry is doing feels and how Harry's teeth scrape over his jaw in just the right way. Louis's grip is getting weak on Harry's shirt, it's mostly rucked up under his armpits now, but Harry's got this grip on Louis' body that he obviously doesn't want to give up.

"No," Harry answers, in a almost a growl before his lips are back on Louis', his tongue invading Louis mouth. Louis rocks up into Harry's touch, the head of his cock catching someplace good on Harry but the zip is becoming a problem, the teeth of it pressing in. 

Louis tugs on Harrys' shirt again, manages to get the soft jersey of it up over Harry's neck and leaning back just enough, over the top of Harry's curls. It pulls Harrys' arms up and Louis falls a bit with Harry's loss of control.

"Louis," Harry says, squinting up at Louis through the curls that are draped over his forehead, hiding his eyes.

Louis shrugs. "Oops?" 

Harry smiles and places one arm against the wall, pulling back a little so Louis can get the rest of his shirt off. He wraps his hand around the small of Louis back when Louis fixes the other arm and then, yes, all of Harry's chest is on show but Louis can't see it. Not here in the dark. And he _wants_ to see it all. He reaches out to one side, feels the edge of the door frame and around the corner to wear the light switch should be. When he finally manages to flick it on - Harry having started to work on Louis shirt himself from the belly up between them - the light is harsh and they both pause to blink and readjust. 

"Hi," Harry says, kiss bruised lips turning up at the corners as he leans in close, green eyes sparkling with glittery gold and pupils slowly dilating, filling with black. He's so beautiful. Always has been. Even now with the lines of laughter tugging at the corners of those big green eyes that seem to swallow Louis whole with a look alone, where feathery black lashes flutter with nerves. 

"Hello," Louis says with an answering smile of his own, tongue flicking out to wet lips that are tingly with feeling. Louis brings both hands up that had somehow gone loose at his sides to the moth that decorates Harry's front. He can feel every single shift of muscle as Harry shakily breathes in, slowly breathes out, only to gasp as Louis' fingertips map out the spaces between Harry's ribs. Tweak and rub over every nipple. He can't stop _staring_ back at Louis and it should be intimidating, should have Louis looking away but he doesn't. He wants to see everything that Harry feels. Relearn all the touches that have Harry hiss and moan. 

It's when Louis is tracing the wings of the birds that sit idly on Harry's chest that Harry finally moves. He's been so still - just letting Louis explore - that it shocks Louis a little. Even more so when one of Harry's hands cups Louis' arse and the other wraps solidly around his middle, lifting Louis from the wall. Louis finds himself clinging to a chuckling Harry who walks them back toward the bed. Louis really hopes that Liam will be staying at Lucas' for the night, because there's no way he or Harry are leaving this bed to shut the bedroom door. Not that it wouldn't be anything that Liam hadn't of walked in on before . . . but that before was a long, long time ago. 

Harry lowers him down carefully, only letting go when nearly both of them are on the bed. Louis tugs at his jeans and pants, shoving them down his legs as he scoots backwards up the bed. They get stuck just past his knees but Louis doesn't have time to care. Harry's hands are already there grabbing the bunched material after wrestling Louis' trainers off. 

Louis blinks, looking up at Harry who - of course - is already naked. Tall and lean and endless smooth tan skin littered with inked lines that Louis longs to follow with the tip of his tongue. Trace with a fingertip and ask Harry the meaning behind every single one. He wants to see if the sharp cut of Harry's hip bone tastes like it used to, if Louis' fingerprints will still last for days after if he squeezes Harry just right. He wants to run his thumb nail lightly across the arch of Harry's foot and see if he still snorts a hyena laugh, muscles twitching to be let go while Louis struggles to hold his ankle down. There's so much he wants and looking at Harry, just being able to see him like this makes his heart swell and his mind go blank for all the words he wanted to say to Harry before. Now it's just grabby hands in Harry's direction and a moan that is frustrated and needy all rolled into one.

"Shirt," Harry says, licking at his lips and throwing Louis' clothes behind him when he's finally wrangled them off. Louis blinks, a little mesmerised by the shift of muscle in Harry's arm and the way it makes the rose at the crease of his arm flex and grow. Harry tugs at Louis big toe with a smirk. "Shirt, Lou."

"Right. Right," Louis says sitting up to pull his shirt the rest of the way off. He tosses it to the side of the bed and then lays back down. He's utterly naked now, feels his skin flush from his cheeks, down his neck and burning his chest. He can feel his dick plumping up, filling fast with just Harry's eyes on his skin and Harry's proximity.

Harry runs a hand through his hair, shaking out the curls and Louis leans back on his elbows, just. . . looking. Looking because he can. Looking because, even though Harry is just standing there, it's almost like he wants Louis to. Almost like he wants Louis just as still so Harry can have his fill, as well.

Louis takes a deep breath, closes his eyes for a minute to quell the jittery feeling in his limbs. Closes his hands into fists, gripping the blanket below tight because he knows they're shaking. It's not nerves exactly. It's. . . it's like he truly can't believe what's going on in this very room with this very man in front of him. Maybe if he just pauses, takes the next bit slow it'll become more real. It'll stop feeling like it shouldn't be happening because this is Louis and this is Harry and they've never, never had anything go proper right for them before. Mostly it was Louis' fault - he knows this - but now, now when they're both in this place where nothing is holding them back. Nothing is stopping them from being together except each other and from the little they have admitted to, that's not going to be an issue anymore.

"Louis, if you're having-"

"No, no," Louis says sharply, eyes opening wide and taking in the nervous stance Harry's fallen into, teeth embedded in that plump bottom lip and one hand twitching at his side. Louis' eyes focus in on the "Things I Can" ink that curls over Harry's inner arm and, yeah. Yeah. This is a thing they can. 

"C'mere," he says softly, wriggling his fingers at Harry, arms outstretched, "need you closer, babe."

Harry lights up as the last word falls from Louis’ lips. He creeps up all slow and ridiculously coordinated considering how he usually is walking over solid ground. Louis slides his hands up Harry's arms as he gets closer, the warmth of Harry's skin this tangible thing that centre's all the nerves Louis had before.

Harry's crawls up between Louis' legs, hovers over where Louis' propped up against the scant few pillows left on the bed. Harry leans in close, hands planted on either side of Louis' head and Louis barely remembers how to _breathe_. They stare at each other again as Louis runs his fingertips over Harry's sides. Up and down over the warm stretch of skin over bone, pausing only at his waist for a moment before shifting up again. It's sort of hypnotic and it settles the buzz under his skin for a minute, but not for much longer. 

"You called me babe," Harry says, dimple deep in one cheek and Louis huffs, blowing at where his fringe has fallen over his eyes. He most certainly does _not_ blush. It's just. . . a little hot in here.

Harry's gaze softens and Louis rests the press of his fingertips at the natural dip of Harry's spine. "It's. . . it's been a while,"

Louis has to clear his throat a little before he speaks. Harry's _everything_ has all possible words sticking in his throat. "You don't mind?"

Harry shakes his head, curls flying and whispers a soft no before he kisses Louis slow and deep and then Louis' pulling Harry in and kissing Harry is all he wants to think about anymore. Kissing Harry and the way Harry's now got one hand on Louis face, thumb rubbing light over the hinge of Louis' jaw. He can't think of a word as all this tension that he didn't realise was even there just starts to dissipate as he sinks into the mattress, Harry's weight pressing him down, holding him still. 

Harry licks deep into Louis' mouth, shifts his hips down in this slow grind that has Louis wanting more than just the accidental brush of their cocks together. Louis slips his arm between them, knuckles grazing Harry's belly as he takes them both in hand. He takes the sharp intake of breath that Harry makes when he does as sign enough of his approval. Louis bites at Harry's lip, drawing it out between his teeth as Harry fucks into Louis' fist. Their dicks slide together almost perfectly as Louis drags his thumb over the wet head of his own, precome already blurting out enough to ease the way. 

Louis slides his hand down over Harry's bum, feels the muscle there flex with each of Harry's thrusts and he can't help but squeeze a little harder when it feels so good. Harry's making all these breathy little sounds into Louis' mouth and maybe he's developed some sort of gills or something because he can't remember taking a breath for a while now. It's just Harry's lips and tongue and snogging like they used to whenever they could find a broom cupboard or the shared bathroom late at night in the X Factor house and it's got Louis' toes curling. Kissing Harry is something that should never be taken for granted when it feels like this. Feels like Louis could come just from having Harry above him, this ever present heat and weight that both grounds Louis and has him floating on a high at the same time. Harry's alternating between these light presses, a mere brush of their lips, to his tongue rubbing against Louis' in ways that have Louis' chasing each kiss. 

He whines with frustration whenever Harry pulls away, especially when Harry presses up on his hands and separates them even more. Harry puts a hand on the arm Louis has between them, whispers "stop," and Louis' frowns with the word. 

"No, no, Lou," Harry says, smiles as he kisses the tip of Louis' nose after circling his long fingers around Louis wrist, tugging his hand out and by Louis' side, not letting go. "I just, I don't want to like this, I want. . . " He takes this deep breath and shakes his head, divots forming deep in his cheeks. 

"I just want more than that. I want you so much," his eyes squint up and his curls fall forward and Louis reaches up with his free hand, tucks them behind Harry's ear. "I always have. Even when I didn't want to anymore, even when it _hurt_ and," he pauses again and Louis feels it. 

He can feel everything that Harry can't get out. Feels all the words that the gleam in Harry's eyes dictate. He knows what Harry means because it's like this balloon in his chest is filling fast and if it's not happiness than it's something so damn close Louis can't find a label for it. It's Harry and it's what Louis has wanted to have with him for so long and it's all here and now and Louis finally gets it.

"Whatever you want. Whatever you want, Harry. We can do this now and we can sleep and we can kiss some more when we wake up. Or we can talk and snuggle and maybe I'll blow you and you'll give me a cheeky handy or we could fuck now or tomorrow, or the day after that," he slips his hand free from where Harry has it pinned lightly to the bed, slides his fingers in the spaces between Harry's and squeezes. "I meant what I said. I'm not going _anywhere_. Not today, not tomorrow, not next week. As long as you want this, us. . . me. I'm here. I'm-"

And it's probably good that Harry stops Louis from talking once more with his lips. Louis was getting all choked up, overcome with how easy it is to admit it all now. To do exactly what he wants, what everyone told him he should do now that he can't hide from what he wants - who he wants - any more. 

Harry's pushing up on his knees, lips still joined with Louis', tongue still delving into Louis' mouth like he can't stop and Louis' honestly doesn't want him to. They were always really good at this. Snogging like they could have won a world championship. Maybe even a gold medal. It was what came after that always held them back, made things a little difficult. Not now though. Not as Harry virtually climbs over Louis, long limbs stretching to get at the bedside drawers. Hand still firmly grasped with Louis'. He can hear the sound of the drawer opening, the shuffle of junk being moved around. Louis dick kicks against his stomach, the thought of what Harry is getting and what they'll be doing sending a shiver down his spine. Spreading heat from low in his belly up and out through his veins, warming him from the inside out. There's still this pressure behind his ribs, but it's different now. This isn't fear and hurt and an ache that he never thought he'd be able to sooth. This is a promise. A little bit more like excitement and a lot like need and want and _now_.

Harry makes this little frustrated sound against Louis' mouth and pulls away with a peck, "I can't bloody find it, I should have bought a bigger bottle not that travel sized shit," Harry shakes his head and Louis laughs. Laughs so loud that his eyes close up and he has to turn his head to the side, cheek into the pillow as a ridiculously long, "hey!" drawls deep from Harry before he, too, is chuckling, pressing his face into Louis' neck and this. This is how it should have always been. Laughing and loving more than anything else. 

The laughter slows and then Harry's just breathing against Louis skin, leg hitched high over Louis thigh, hand still clasped in Louis' tight. Harry's lips become this barely there touch under Louis' ear. Soft and sweet down the line of his jaw, firmer still at the corner of Louis' lips. "Hey," he whispers, voice deep and so much longing in one word that Louis has to turn, has to fit their lips together as he breathes out Harry's name, clutches at Harry's hip with his free hand and pulls him in. Harry shifts, riding against Louis' thigh their bodies brushing together in the best of ways. Louis feels himself getting hard again, the giggles from before momentarily having flagged his dick's interest. 

"Want you," Harry murmurs into Louis' mouth, between brushes of his lips, in the seconds where Harry's tongue isn't sliding against Louis'. "Want to watch you come when your inside - " he squeezes their hands together hard, eyelids fluttering closed. "I want you so much, want -" He moans and Louis leans up, wraps his hand around Harry's neck and drags him in close. He kisses Harry deep, uses his tongue like Harry wants to use his dick and it's all slick slides and Harry making these delicious snuffly _sounds_ as he ruts against the thick meat of Louis' thigh. 

When he does pull away, it's to turn his head to the opposite set of drawers, "Second drawer down, behind the socks. Rosie never goes in there," 

Harry rolls his eyes but says nothing more, just dives to the side, scrambles around fast only to sit up with a wide grin and a cheeky, "Uh huh!" falling from his kiss bruised lips, thin bottle of lube in hand. Louis pushes his bottom lip out and puffs up a breath, blowing his sweaty fringe from his face as Harry clambers back over Louis, kneeling over where Louis' stomach feels like it's being inhabited by a forest full of butterflies. Louis runs his hands up and over Harry's knees, through the dark hair that covers his upper thighs, thumbs barely grazing the cut of his hip bones before sliding down and back up again. Harry leans in and kisses Louis quick, this, _"I'm sorry I'm an idiot,"_ which Louis returns with a, _"It's not your fault you forgot this was my room before yours."_

He flips open the little lid, and looks straight at Louis, perfect teeth turning the corner of his bottom lip white with pressure. "Do you want to or,"

"Babe, you know I've always loved to watch," Louis finds himself saying easily, all pretenses having fallen between them and it doesn't even surprise Louis with how easily he can ask this of Harry. How he can just _ask_ for what he really wants. Harry just nods, a small smile twitching at the side of his mouth as he squeezes out a liberal amount of gel on his fingertips. 

Harry's knuckles graze over Louis' length for a second, the cool wet of lube slipping between Harry's fingers and Louis shudders, and oh. Louis knows he doesn't have any condoms in that drawer. Wasn't expecting to do _anything_ like this while he was here. The fact that Harry didn't find one or hasn't mentioned it makes Louis wonder and Harry's hand is behind him, eyelids heavy when Louis asks. 

"You were my last, and Nick and I had stopped months before. He had his show and I had the _oh,_ album," Harry says, and it should surprise him that hearing Nick's name does nothing to him now. If anything it emboldens him to be just as honest in return.

"There was only El this past year, and you. You were mine, too," and with that Harry smiles, hips shifting back and Louis has to wonder if he's already got more than one finger tucked in tight. If Harry's doing this a little too fast for complete comfort, just because he likes the stretch, likes that little bit of hurt before pleasure. 

"I have some, if you," Harry pauses, breathes out harsh through flared nostrils, "I can,"

Louis squeezes Harry's legs just above the knee. "I trust you."

Harry nods and sighs, this little hiccough of a sound and yeah, yeah Louis remembers that. Harry's definitely got two fingers inside himself now. "Show me," he says, voice thick with emotion because Harry's GQ's hottest male most years but like this? Naked and prepping himself for Louis, this intimate moment between them? This is beautiful. This is the Harry Louis would have flashes of pop into his mind at the most inopportune of times - or _most_ opportune considering how fast it would get him off. 

Harry grabs at his dick, holds it tight against his stomach and Louis watches as precome blurts from the slit three times from just Harry's own gentle touch. He can see a little better now, Harry's got two fingers inside himself, hips thrusting shallowly as he rides them slow. Harry whines a little as Louis fingertips brush Harry's inner thighs, pale skin even more so against the tan Louis' built up under the Australian sun. He presses his fingers in deep, watches as Harry's skin turns white and then pink when he lets go, and _christ_ does he want to put his mouth there. Mark Harry up with his lips and his teeth, make a roadmap of how much he _wants_ Harry over every inch of Harry's skin. 

"Louis," Harry says and it's this broken, harsh sound that has Louis lifting his gaze from the fingerprints he's leaving to Harry's eyes. The green is near lost amongst the black, this dark need pursuing all the natural colour leaving only a near feral need in its wake. Louis feels it too, feels it down deep in the pit of his stomach, feels it in the extra beats of his heart as he surges up, wraps his hand around the back of Harry's neck and pulls him in close. Bites his way into Harry's mouth with nips and sheer force. Harry groans as he does, the sound turning into a sharp gasp as Louis tips them off balance and Harry falls to Louis' side, tumbling onto the bed. 

They lay there stunned for a minute, a tangled mass of limbs and slick from where Louis landed on the lube and it squirted out between them. They look at each other for a long moment before they're laughing again and Harry's got his head on Louis' chest, hands on his shoulders as his deep chuckles fill the room with sound. Louis' snickering and reaching between them for the bottle, holding up it's squashed shape which only sets Harry off even more so as Louis throws it across the room, hearing it land with a squelchy thud. Hopefully, nowhere near Rosie's dollhouse or teddy bear collection. Liam may forgive him for most things but having to explain to his daughter why Mr Tibbs the tabby is covered in lube might be pushing it. 

Louis' pressing his lips to Harry's hairline, smiling as Harry smothers a few snorts into his chest when Harry speaks again. "I've missed your laugh," he says out loud, something he was thinking but didn't actually want to say. Harry stills and Louis can feel his chest shift with how deep a breath Harry's taking, runs his hands a little slower over the muscles of Harry's back.

Harry turns his head to the side, shifts the leg he has over the top of Louis', wraps his ankle over Louis' calf and hums. 

"I forgot how fun this was. What we had. What being with you was like," Louis finds the words slipping from his tongue now. Can feel the weight of years pushing his feelings aside lifting like bubbles in the deep of the ocean rising fast to the surface. 

Harry squeezes the round of Louis shoulder, presses a kiss to one of the letters on Louis chest - possibly an 's' but Louis can't be sure from this angle. "I've missed," Louis pauses, closes his eyes because this is Louis at his most honest. This is Louis feeling like he can actually say these things and it won't be _bad_ to do so. Not with what Harry's admitted to. Not with how long Harry's waited to hear them. "I've missed my best friend. I think i've missed that most of all."

Harry flops onto his back, arm up and over his eyes as he whines and Louis' freezes because that wasn't exactly the reaction he was hoping for. 

"Oh my god I forgot how soppy you are," Harry says and Louis slaps at Harry's chest, right between the birds and bites at the closest part of Harry's arm he can reach.

"I'm trying to be romantic here, Harold!" Louis squawks, cheeks flushing with heat, before biting into Harry's arm again, a little near the star he used to fill out with bruises from his mouth years before. 

Harry uncovers his eyes, slides his arm around Louis neck instead, tugs him up until their faces are close. "You're terrible at it, but I always loved that about you."

And there it is. There's the word - or a variation of it - that Louis' been feeling since he saw Harry curled into the corner of the sofa. Or before that when he was standing with Liam in the studio. Or before that when he fell on top of Louis and onto the floor of his flat. Or before and before and again and again until Louis can't remember a time when he didn't think that about Harry at all. 

"Still do," Harry near whispers over Louis' lips, and they're so close Louis might as well be breathing Harry in. Kisses him quick anyway, and steals whatever else Harry was going to say right from the source itself. He feels it. Knows exactly what Harry means because it's right there in his heart as well. 

Louis rolls on top of Harry, feels Harry wrap both his arms around Louis neck, knees sliding up Louis sides until they're pressed together so tight it's as if there's no space between them at all anymore. Just warm skin on warm skin. Louis dick riding the cut of Harry's hip and Harry's pressed into the soft round of Louis' stomach as Harry bites at Louis' bottom lip. They kiss all slow and rut against each other in echo of the way their tongues slide together above. Louis skin is tingling all over, this hazy rush of lust and a want of more, more, _more_ that seems as if it'll never be sated. He feels like he's eighteen all over again and touching will never be enough. As if he'll never have his fill of Harry no matter what.

"C'mon, Lou. Just, need you to, need you," Harry cuts off with a moan, teeth grazing the lobe of Louis' ear. Louis turns his head, aligns their lips again and runs his fingers through the cold mess of lube that they'd squirted onto the bed before. He moves to sit up, shift onto his knees at the very least so he can get a hand on his knob and slick himself up but Harry stops him with a whine, feet and arms tightening to a near choke hold. 

"No," Harry says, all gruff and pleading, "Just like this, want you close," 

Louis stills for a minute, because he knows Harry's only had two fingers inside himself, can't be all that stretched. Not enough for Louis to slide in easy. Not enough that it won't hurt - at least a little. 

He manages to push up on one hand enough to see Harry's face, his cheeks ruddy and hairline matted with sweat, curls damp and loose at his ears. And his eyes - his eyes are just so dark and there's this emotion in his gaze, this way he's looking up at Louis and it has his heart _aching_. Makes Louis want to forget about what he stopped for and just kiss Harry some more, ruby red lips all puffy and chapped from all that's come before. 

"I won't, I won't hurt you, Haz. I can't. . . I've done that-" he stops, shaking his head because they've been over that. It's been said already tonight and that night in Louis' flat where this all started up again. Harry's shushing him with sound, his hands a steady rhythm in a circuit of warmth over Louis' back. 

"You won't. You really won't. Christ, I . . ." Harry's cheeks redden further and his eyes dart to the side and Louis remembers this, remembers how good the flush of embaressment looks stained Harry's skin. He presses his forehead into Louis shoulder, turns his face so it's mostly hidden in Louis' arm. "bee schmankin garlo diseek,"

"What?" Louis asks because there's no way what Harry said is proper words or any language Louis' heard before. And they've heard a lot travelling the globe like they did as five eager boys taking on the world.

Harry huffs and it's cool on Louis' skin, grazes his nipple enough to have him shiver. 

"I've been wanking a lot this week, alright? You wore those white jeans on Tuesday. Your _thighs_ , Louis."

Louis heats up from the inside out because Harry's been _wanking_ over him. Him. It's so much like a conversation they had holed up in their bunk while the rest of the house slept silently that Louis wonders if time travel really _isn't_ that impossible, after all. 

"But," Louis starts because even if Harry has been tossing off, it doesn't exactly mean he's ready right _now_.

"I may have gotten myself off after I got home this afternoon. It may also be the reason my lube isn't in the bedside drawer but in the bathroom."

"The one that you share with Rosie? You got yourself off with all her rubber duckies staring at you, Harold?"

Louis yelps as Harry's toes pinch at his side. "I turned their heads to face the wall you dick,"

"Thoughtful,"

"I try not to be a complete pervert," 

Louis just nods and pulls them both to one side, makes enough room for his hand to slide over the curve of Harry's bum. He's slick down there, and it's with the slightest of pressure that he's able to slide one finger inside Harry. All smooth, tight, heat and Harry shakes in his arms, gasps as Louis gets up to one knuckle, hisses at Louis' withdrawal only to mouth at Louis' collarbone the moment Louis fits two fingers where one fit so easily before. Harry shifts his weight, folds one leg up higher so Louis can get at him easier. Louis uses his thumb to rub more of the lube on his palm up over his fingers, fits three of them together before circling the once tight furl of skin, pushes in slow. Harry's moaning again, this time a lot deeper like with every movement of Louis' hand he's pushing the sound out, too. Louis' dick kicks with interest between them, and he can feel how wet he's become, and he wants Harry to be ready. Wants to be inside him again.

"C'mon, it's okay. Louis. _Louis,_ Harry says, nipping at Louis jaw, fitting his mouth to the curve of Louis' neck and sucking hard as Louis finally gets all three fingers fit inside. 

He crooks his fingers a little, rubs with enough pressure to have Harry tensing around him, lips faltering against Louis' skin for a moment. Louis grins, and rubs his thumb around the tight stretch of Harry's hole, wonders if he should ask Harry to get a hand around Louis' cock, hold him tight so he doesn't nut off before his dick gets where his fingers are. 

"Please, please, I'm ready," Harry whispers brokenly at Louis ear, kisses Louis sloppy as he pants with how Louis is sliding his fingers in and out, wet sounds from his movements filling the air around them. 

Louis eases Harry onto his back as he slides his fingers free. Harry's hands loosen over Louis' neck and back and Louis presses his lips to Harry's cheek, the corner of his lips, the tip of his nose. "I'll go slow, Haz. You're still so fucking tight."

Harry's hips pulse up into the space Louis created between them, Louis' eyelashes fluttering from the way Harry's movement catches their dicks together. "Slow is good. Slow is fine, just. . . just, inside me. Please."

Louis has to close his eyes at that. The simple plea. The same word he used the first time he asked Louis to fuck him. The same word he used every time, really. He slips a hand between them, eases himself up on his knees enough that he can get his free hand into Harry's hair. Fit his palm to Harry's cheek as he slides the tip of his dick in the slick between Harry's legs. He has to bite at his lip, sucking the skin into his mouth when it catches on the rim and Harry's hips stutter and enough. Enough waiting.

He presses in slow and it's _so_ different to before. This is them sober and this is Harry's heat like this furnace around him. Harry's fingertips scrabble over Louis' back, a sheen of sweat covering his skin. The room's slowly getting hotter as they've warmed it with their bodies. The closed window behind their heads as forgotten as the mess of sheets and the pool of lube somewhere under Harry's right arse cheek now. Louis leans in, fits his lips to Harry's as he bottoms out, fills Harry up and it's so good. So _good_ to be here like this again. To be as close as he can to Harry, this man that he's known since he was a boy. This man who he's loved since then, even when he didn't want to. Even when he was sure it couldn't be love because love shouldn't have hurt as much as it did. Broke his heart as much as it had. Made him feel worse than anything ever in his life before.

"Louis," Harry whines and his fingertips are like a vicegrip on the meat of Louis arms, gripping so tight on Louis' biceps that they're bound to leave bruises. Louis can't say anything back because it's just so good, so fucking _good_ just being with Harry like this that if he does he'll end up pounding into Harry like his dick wants to, but his heart and brain are set on making this last. 

He kisses Harry again, this short sweet press of lips because he needs it. Needs to ground himself for a moment before he's remembering that he _can_ move, probably should. His thumb brushes the cut of muscle at Harry's hip as he slides out, tilts Harry's body up with the press of three fingers where they lie on the curve of Harry's arse. It has him smiling because it's nice that their bodies still do this, know what each other wants without having to voice it. Harry's got a hand in Louis' hair now, fingertips slotted into the knotted mess at the nape of Louis' neck holding him still and close. Louis isn't going anywhere, though. Can't. Can't leave Harry now he knows that he's what Harry wants. Now he knows that it's something they are both finally, _finally_ on the same page about. 

The thought alone of having this all the time has Louis fucking back in, this slow roll of his hips that Harry's echo. It's just touch and feel and their lips barely leave each other's as the room heats, or maybe Louis' skin does, because it feels like there's this electric charge building just under his skin. Every sweep of Harry's hand over Louis' back, his arm, a tickle over his ribs just adds to the buildup. Louis tilts Harry's hips a little further, virtually has Harry's arse resting on his thighs as Harry shifts his legs higher and yeah. Yeah. That's got these little "ungh" sounds punching out of Harry now as Louis slides his hand up Harry's leg, coarse hair under his fingertips. Louis gets his fingers between his side and Harry's knee and it's with a slight push that he's guiding Harry's leg up and over his shoulder. He dicks into Harry deep now, has Harry near folded like a pretzel with the heel of Harry's other foot pressing into the curve of Louis' bum, urging him on. Louis can see from the corner of his eye where Harry's arm has fallen to the bed, hand twitching against the sheets every so often like he isn't sure if he should move it or not.

"You can," Louis says between sucking a bruise into the space between Harry's birds on his chest, "You can touch yourself, Haz,"

Harry bites down on Louis' hand a little harder, wraps his mouth around Louis' thumb and grazes his teeth over the knuckle. "No," he whimpers, nostrils flaring, "Just you, wanna come from just you,"

Louis' hips stutter for a moment, the thought of Harry coming untouched, just from Louis' dick alone makes him _want_ it to happen. Want to touch Harry in all the right ways and fuck Harry just so because it'll be all him. Just Louis and no one else, nothing else making Harry feel that way. He fucks into Harry harder, the loud slap of skin on skin echoing between them. It's not long though and Harry's panting, rolling his head back and exposing the long column of his neck, mouth slack as he whines something that could possibly be Louis' name. Louis doesn't miss the opportunity to set his mouth to Harry's skin, sucks hard over where he can feel the rapid beat of Harry's pulse so close to the surface. And he tastes like salt and sort of bitter like cologne and Louis just keeps licking and sucking until all he can taste is Harry and Harry is near writhing beneath him.

Harry's cock is sandwiched between them as Louis leans in, gets Harry's other leg over his shoulder so he can put two hands on the bed on either side of Harry. Dick into Harry so deep that Harry's just this mess of sound and harsh breaths that could really be Louis' either. Harry's so fucking _tight_ around him and it feels so good, so amazing that Louis doesn't want it to end. He wants to come but if doing this, being this _close_ to Harry then maybe he can wait. Maybe he can just balance on the precipice between complete and utter bliss and not quite there yet forever. His fringe keeps getting into his eyes, sweat stinging them when he flicks his head to the side, hoping to shake it out of the road. Harry smiles against Louis' lips when he huffs and sweeps the offending hair out of the way, only to close his eyes, mouth dropping open on a moan as Louis' dick presses someplace better than before. 

Louis leans on one hand, curves the other over Harry's cheek, his thumb stroking over the swell of Harry's bruised and kiss swollen bottom lip. Louis slows, fucks Harry in the same way and yeah, he's found that spot again with the way Harry's eyes open wide, only to roll back a second later. Louis does it again and again and he's panting as Harry turns his face to the side, teeth grazing the meat of Louis' palm and biting down on one particularly good stroke. Harry near sucks on Louis thumb, presses lightly with his teeth as he breathes through his nose all harsh and loud. It's what Louis concentrates on, making Harry feel so good he forgets to breathe if the loud gasps of air he's taking every other minute is anything to go by. 

And, fuck, he'd almost forgotten how much he loves all the little noises that Harry makes. The breathy whines and choked off moans that mean he's getting closer to the edge. They're all his now, just for Louis, and he can't believe he gets to have this. After all the mistakes and bad decisions, all the miscommunication. Harry is his.

He pulls back just enough so that he can see the green of Harry's eyes and says, soft as a whisper, "I love you, Haz. I love you so much."

And it's there, it's _right there_ in the clarity of Harry's gaze and the tiny lift to the corner of his smile as he whispers those same three words back and then Harry's coming. It's this intense grip on Louis' dick and Louis can't hold back - couldn't if he tried. He just fucks Harry right through it, vaguely feels the warm splatter of come on his chest but it's hard to focus on that when his own dick is starting to kick inside the tight heat of Harry and he's lost all rhythm. He's barely even kissing Harry now - not properly - just his lips on Harry's and his breath in these short gasps that don't feel like they're doing all that much. Then it hits him, eyes closing tight and oxygen trapped somewhere in his throat as his whole body shudders and he's coming. He's coming so hard he possibly passes out for a minute as everything stills into this perfect point of pleasure that surely is frying every single nerve and neuron in his body and mind. 

It's just Harry, and Harry, and Harry, and that's all that matters anymore.

. . . 

They sleep for hours or minutes. The light is pink and silver as it filters through the blinds in the room the next morning. Louis wakes to Harry pressed up against his side, snoring through one nostril as his drool pools on Louis' shoulder, a leg and an arm pinning Louis to the bed. They never got up and cleaned off the night before, just kissed soft and sweet and held each other until it all slowed and exhaustion or post orgasmic tiredness pulled them under.

Louis can't stop staring at Harry as he sleeps. His profile is so much like the one Louis' woke up to when they'd first started being something more than ridiculously addicted to teasing each other to the point of needing to doing _something_. All those moments when they'd had to excuse themselves to go rub one out in the privacy of one of the bathrooms, or a broom cupboard, or some place away from prying eyes with thoughts of each the other doing the same thing getting them off within seconds of putting hands on dicks. He's still Louis' Harry. Still the Harry Louis fell in love with, never truly out of, and now he's done hiding from that fact. He wants everyone to know that Harry is his and his alone.

It makes him smile so wide it hurts and there's this nervous happy anticipation rolling in his stomach because it's so big. What he feels for Harry is so big, there's no way his body can contain it and it comes out as this giggle snort and has him clasping a hand over his mouth to cover the sound. Harry startles and his grip tightens on Louis and Louis splutters, snorting some more because Harry's eyes go so wide with shock. 

"Louis?" he says, voice all groggy and thick and Louis has to bite at his hand, trying to choke back the nervous laughter that tickles at the back of his throat.

Harry grins, through a yawn, dimples deep and dark lashes blinking slow over the green eyes Louis love - loves all of him really - but his eyes are something else entirely. "Were you watching me sleep you creeper?"

Louis nods because he still feels that bubble of laughter sitting behind his tongue. Harry's hand slides over Louis' skin, fingertips rubbing over a nipple before scratching through curls of hair on his chest. "I drooled on your shoulder, sorry," 

"No you’re not," Louis gets out, because Harry doesn't look sorry at all, he's _smirking_. "You left me all crusty, too. Got your come all over my stomach. Disgusting, Harold," 

Harry raises a brow, rocks his hips against where he's near wrapped around Louis and oh, he's definitely sporting a little morning wood. Well - it's to be expected - Louis' been getting hard himself what with Harry's proximity and the way he's flicking at Louis' nipples, sending little sparks of want straight to Louis' cock. "You came in my arse you sod! Pretty sure the mess of come and lube between my legs is far worse than a little spit on your shoulder."

Louis lets himself laugh this time, there's something perfect about their banter, this feeling bubbling in his chest and he could label it and dissect it but no. No. It's Harry and he's making Louis laugh and that's enough. "The difference is that we both enjoyed the mess that you've been left in, my shoulder however, has been violat-"

Harry leans in and kisses him quick and sound and when he pulls back Louis continues with, "you think you can just shut me-"

Then Harry's kissing him again and again and crawling over the top of Louis until they're grinding against each other, dicks sliding hot and a little dry until Harry's spit slick hand holds them both and it get's a lot better. It's with giggles between kisses and snarks about morning breath that Louis comes before Harry, painting both their skin afresh with stripes of white. 

Then it's a shower that turns the water cold as Louis' whining about Harry taking up all the room, and all the heat, ends with Harry's knees on the tiles and his mouth on Louis' cock. 

They're dressed and snuggling on the sofa when Liam comes home and the crinkly eyed smile on his best friends' face has Louis hiding his own in Harry's shoulder.

"About fucking time," is all Liam says and Harry throws a pillow at him.

. . . 

Louis sits side of stage when Harry performs on X Factor. Claps the loudest - well, to his ears - when the guitar Harry's playing fades out and Harry's eyes close leaving him alone in the spotlight. The host asks him about the song, when it's due out, and if he's liked his time in Australia.

His smile is brighter than any of the stage lighting when he looks over the hosts shoulder and straight into Louis' eyes. 

"Yeah, best trip of my life."

Louis blows him in the bathroom and lets Harry be as loud as he wants.

. . .

They never do "come out" as a couple

They don't exactly hide their relationship, either.

It's easy with Harry having a month off before the album release, it's easier when Harry pushes it back another two so it's released in time for Christmas. They disappear for a while, just Liam and Niall knowing where they are and Stan who actually cried a little on the phone when Louis told him where he was and who he was with. Stan blames it on being a few whiskeys shy of being completely shit faced but Louis knew drunk Stan better than anyone and emotional Stan was slightly different to that. Drunk Stan was less weepy. More loud and obnoxious and prone to using those dance machines at arcades that they'd somehow find. 

They _don't_ discount what it could possibly mean when some pap finds them on the tiny island they'd chosen to get away to, snaps them holding hands walking along the beach one afternoon. They don't say anything when there's a very, _very_ blurred shot of them kissing under a palm tree outside the restaurant they'd had dinner in circulating online. They still say nothing when there's a shot of them on a yacht at sunrise, Louis in nothing but Harry's overly large knit and Harry standing behind him, hand at the wheel with his lips on Louis neck and Louis' hand on Harry's bare thigh.

Though, Alice might release a statement asking for privacy but it doesn't actually _say_ what the privacy request is for.

No. It's Harry performing a secret show before the album comes out for a select group of fans at a tiny little hole in the wall bar back in London that reveals more than anything before. It's Harry standing on stage with Ed playing guitar and this other mate of Harry's on drums and Louis at the bar with Niall, sipping his rum and coke as Niall chats up the girl serving them and Harry tuning his guitar. It's Louis looking up when Harry dedicates this next song to someone very special in the audience. Someone who he loves. 

It might be all of that, or it might be at the end, when Harry's voice fades out and the bar is actually so quiet you could hear a pin drop when Louis finds himself out of his seat, and on stage in seconds. It might be when Harry's hand finds Louis' hip or when Louis' holds Harry's face in his hands, pushes up on his feet to press his lips to Harry's that the world finds out.

Then again. Maybe everyone always knew and it's not really that news worthy after all.

. . .

The end. (or the beginning. Depending how you look at it.)

. . .


End file.
